Collecting all Yesterdays
by ismisesarah
Summary: AU. The summer of 1932 was unfolding like every other summer for Jean Finch.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Ok, so, I originally uploaded this when I was 18 (I'm 22 now YIKES), and anytime I looked at it I cringed at 18 year old me's writing. This has been given a big spruce up (with potentially more chapters than last time idk yet), so yeah here's another oldie.

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Jean Finch rested her weight against the kitchen counter top, her hands frozen on top of her chopping board as she watched her children playing in the back yard. She laughed quietly watching Jem imitate what she took to be an ape and then instruct Scout to do the same. Ever the boss over his little sister, she watched Jem instruct Scout to stay where she was while he climbed on top of the tire swing.

"Looks like it's Tarzan and the apes again, Cal." Jean said, never turning from watching Jem and Scout. Behind her, she heard Cal laugh.

"Those two have the wildest imaginations I've ever seen, Miss Jean!" Cal replied, joining Jean at the kitchen window.

"That they do, Cal."

Jean was proud of the people her children were turning out to be. While Jem took after her in looks, he was his daddy through and through. He had his mother's light brown hair and eyes, but his father's calm and collected temperament. At only ten years old, Jem was a little gentleman who wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and was a protective older brother to his baby sister, Jean Louise, and Jean couldn't have been prouder of him.

Jean Louise, or Scout as she had been affectionately nicknamed, was another thing altogether. Jean's daughter was a little fire cracker who took nothing from nobody, and while Jean had to constantly remind her not to say things which were entirely inappropriate, she was inwardly proud that her daughter seemed to be able to hold her own in the world even at the tender age of six. She hoped Scout never lost that fire. It was a cruel world she would grow up to enter and she'd need fire in her belly to take it by the horns.

Being six also meant something else. Being six meant that her little baby would be starting school in a short number of weeks. Jean could scarcely believe that six years had passed since Jean Louise had been born. In her mind it was only yesterday that she was reading to her and rocking her to sleep, it was only yesterday that she had sat with her husband waiting for Jean Louise to say her first words, and it was most definitely only yesterday that she had been cradling her newborn daughter in her arms. How had she grown up so quickly?

How had both her babies grown up so quickly? She still remembered Jem as the always smiling and laughing little baby in her arms; now he was ten years old and asking his father for a gun. Jean had hardly been able to believe her ears when Jem had asked Atticus one evening over supper if he could be allowed to have a gun. He put forward the argument that he was now ten and so had the maturity to handle such a thing without causing any damage. She had just opened her mouth to argue when Atticus saved her the trouble and said quite firmly that there would be no guns in the house while he was still above ground. When Atticus had put his foot down on the matter, Jean was sure that Jem would let the idea drop, but she should have known that it would only be a matter of time before Jem brought it up again.

Outside, she watched as their was a pause in Tarzan and the apes. Jem was looking towards town before pulling Scout to her feet and racing in through the screen door.

"Mama, it's five o'clock! We're gonna go meet Atticus!" Jem came barrelling through, not stopping for Jean's response as he raced down the hall and back outside through the front door.

"Hi, Mama. Bye, Mama!" Scout quickly followed, running to catch up with her brother. Jean shook her head fondly at watching them go. Though they may not agree with him half the time, both her children idolised their father.

Coming through the swinging door to the dining room, Cal laughed heartily at the sounds of their feet pounding down the hall. "Nothing's changed with 'em, Miss Jean. Meeting their daddy is still the highlight of their day." She said while picking up a stack of plates.

"Atticus just loves it. He says nothin' makes him happier than coming form the office and seeing his two rascals racing towards him, even if he does end up covered in dirt or whatever else they've been rolling in. I swear, one time he came through that door covered in slime." She laughed and followed Cal through to the dining room, listening as the screen door clattered shut and the sounds of Jem and Scout trying to talk over each other filled the house.

"...and then we had to stop cause Scout wouldn't play one of the apes and…"

"I _always_ play an ape. Why can't I be Tarzan…"

"Cause you're a _girl_ , Scout. How can you be Tarzan when you're a _girl_."

"I can be just a good a Tarzan as you, Jem Finch!"

"Will you both give your daddy some room to breathe?" Jean emerged from the dining room and chastised them both gently. "Lord almighty, he's not even through the door and you've both nearly got him smothered," she laughed and crossed the hall to allow Atticus to kiss her hello, not missing the sound of Scout giggling.

"Atticus, why do you kiss Mama all the time?" Scout asked, still snickering quietly.

"Because I love her," Atticus answered simply, allowing Jem to take his briefcase and his hat as he wrapped his arm around Jean's waist.

"Atticus loves Mama," she began to chant as she turned and skipped back through to the dining room.

Jean turned her head up to her husband and rolled her eyes as she stretched up to kiss his cheek. "As you heard we had a very eventful afternoon involving a very stubborn daughter of ours who refused to play an ape. It was all very dramatic I must say. I thought for a minute we might have to call John Taylor in to make a verdict. She must take her stubbornness after you," she teased her husband as they made their way to the dining room with his arm still wrapped around her waist.

"Mrs Finch, if I'm stubborn it's only because you've rubbed off on me after all these years. You can be a stubborn little madam too when you want to be." He gave her a squeeze before letting go and pulling out her chair at the table.

Even after eleven years of marriage, he was still the ever attentive husband. Jean had thought that, with the arrival of their children, his affectionate side towards her would diminish, but she found she was pleasantly wrong. If anything Atticus seemed to get more affectionate towards her as the years went by. He still didn't mind when she rested her head on his shoulder as they read in the evenings, he still kissed her as he always had done, even in the presence of their children, and he still surprised her with little trinkets whenever he felt like it. The ladies of the neighbourhood often commented on how lucky she was that her husband was still so attentive towards her, and Jean couldn't help but agree with them.

Supper that evening went as usual with Atticus asking his wife and children how their day had been and he in turn talked about his. Everything was going as normal until, halfway through the meal, Jean happened to glance at her son and found he was sitting pushing his food dismally around his plate.

"Jem? Is everything alright? Are you feeling ill?" Jean asked him softly, watching as his eyes came up from his plate and he regarded his father. Jean immediately regretted having said anything.

"Atticus, why won't you let me have a gun? It ain't fair! All the other boys in school have had guns since they started walkin'. It ain't like I'm gonna go shoot Miss Maudie or anything!" Jem brought up the same age old argument.

"That's only cause then you wouldn't get any of her cakes," Scout piped up from beside him, smirking at him over the top of her glass.

Jem glowered at her before turning back to Atticus. "Atticus, please! You know I'd be real careful not to hit anyone! I'm ten now I'm old enough! You can trust me with it!" He continued to plead.

Jean saw Atticus sigh wearily and place his knife and fork by his plate. "Son, I have no doubt that you wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone if I were to give you a gun, but accidents happen. It's not a matter of not trusting you, but all it takes is one wrong move and you've done somethin' you'll regret for the rest of your life. When you're older and little bit more mature, then you can get a gun," Atticus spoke firmly, picking his knife and fork back up to signal the end of the discussion.

"Mama," Jem turned helplessly back to Jean, his eyes begging her to say something.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I agree with your daddy. Like he said, it's not about not trusting you but not wantin' you to get hurt or hurt anyone else," Jean said and watched Jem sink back into his chair and play around with his food once more. She didn't enjoy having her son angry with her, but it was better than having him lying dead somewhere as a result of a backfiring gun.

For the rest of the evening Jem stayed quiet in his room rather than spending the last few hours before bed out playing in the neighbourhood. He and Scout had recently befriended a little boy named Dill who was staying with Rachel Haverford next door, but not even his appearance shortly after supper could convince Jem to leave his room.

He stayed moody for the remainder of the evening, not coming to join the rest of his family in the living room as they each sat at their own activities with the radio playing softly in the background. Not even Atticus' peace offering of new football magazines would coax him to come out. When the clock rolled half past eight, and Atticus was keeping to his nightly ritual of reading with Scout before she went to sleep, Jean slipped into her son's room and found him sitting in bed staring angrily at the wall in front of him. He didn't make any indication that he was aware of her presence until she sat by his side and started stroking his hair. Since he was little, it was always the thing that seemed to have a calming effect on him.

"Baby, don't be angry at your daddy, or at me for that matter. We're only being like this because we love you." She spoke soothingly to him and continued stroking his hair.

"Mama, I'm ten years old. Atticus can teach me how to work a gun properly to make sure I don't hurt myself or anyone else. You don't know what it's like when all the other boys have guns and I don't because my daddy won't let me," he continued to huff with her.

Jean sighed and moved herself onto his bed in order to wrap her arm around his small shoulders and pull him into her. He might be ten years old, but he wasn't too old that he didn't enjoy getting cuddles from his mama. "Baby, your daddy is just scared for you. We both are. We'd never forgive ourselves if anything were to happen to you." Jean murmured and kissed the top of his head.

"Why are you scared, Mama? It ain't like I'm goin' to turn into a lunatic that goes around shootin' everyone. I ain't gonna end up in the asylum," Jem turned slightly to look at her disbelievingly.

"No, baby, you've picked me up wrong. I don't think you're goin' to turn into a lunatic." She laughed lightly and ruffled his hair. Sighing deeply once more, she decided that Jem was old enough to hear about why she and Atticus were scared for him.

"Baby, we've never told you this, but I had some trouble havin' you. You were supposed to be born in March but instead you decided to make an appearance in January. Your daddy and me both didn't think you would make it, but you've always been a fighter and you pulled through." She kissed his head again. Despite the fact that ten years had passed, it still haunted her how she could so easily have lost her son. "Then, two years after you were born, your daddy and me wanted another baby and we very nearly had one but somethin' happened and I lost it. Your daddy was so upset, more upset than I've ever seen him, we almost didn't have Scout because he was scared of what might happen." She shook her head and paused for a second. "So, honey, do you see why he's so reluctant to let you have a gun? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to you after all the trouble we went through. We both love you so much and we just want to keep you safe." She gave her son a squeeze.

Jem remained silent beside her as he thought about what she had just said. "Ok, Mama," he said eventually. "I'm sorry." He apologised and put his arms around her neck to hug her.

"Oh, baby, you have nothin' to be sorry for. Nothin' at all." Jean replied, gladly tightening her own arms around him. "If you'll just have some patience, mister, you'll see your daddy will keep his promise." She playfully pinched his cheek and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Now, get to bed before your daddy comes in and tans my hide for keepin' you up." She winked at him and stood to let him fix his duvet around him.

"Mama," he called just as she had reached the interconnecting door to Scouts room.

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

Jean felt her heart melt. "I love you too, baby," she whispered quietly and slipped silently into her daughter's room. The lamp beside her bed was off and a sure indication that her reading time with Atticus had ended long ago. Nevertheless, Jean crossed the room to her bed and placed a kiss on her cheek which was showing above her duvet.

After silently closing Scout's door and checking in on Jem once more, Jean made the usual journey to the front porch swing where she and her husband would go each night after the children were in bed to have some time for themselves. Popping her head out through the screen door she saw as expected, Atticus sitting on his usual side of the bench preoccupied with whatever was on his mind.

"Now, what could possibly have you thinkin' so intently at quarter to nine at night? It's a little early to be thinkin' about my Christmas present, isn't it?" She teased as she took her seat beside him and felt his arm drape over her shoulders.

"Were you in town today, honey?" He asked as his fingers traced over the skin of her arm.

"I wasn't. Why, did somethin' happen?" She replied, clearly confused.

"You could say that." Atticus rubbed his eyes under his glasses before continuing. "About midday Bob Ewell came runnin' into town looking for Heck and sayin' that someone had taken advantage of his daughter. He was very excited and couldn't get Heck out to his house soon enough."

Jean scoffed at him. "If anyone took advantage of one of his daughters' it was Bob Ewell himself. You know what that family's like, Atticus. They're an utter disgrace," she replied.

"I know, honey, I know. The trouble is, he wants to take it through the courts and, with who he's accusing, he'll win," Atticus explained to her wearily. Whatever was going on was clearly bothering him.

"Why, who is he accu…" She trailed off as the sound of heavy footsteps could then be heard on the porch. Turning to look, she saw old John Taylor making his way towards them.

"Evenin, Atticus. Mrs Finch." He greeted them warmly and pulled a chair closer to the bench.

"Evenin', Judge," they both answered in unison.

"I'll take myself back inside," Jean spoke quietly to her husband only to have him tighten his hold around her shoulders.

"Stay," he requested. It took a few moments for Jean to realise that he wanted her to hear whatever John had arrived to tell them.

John stayed quiet for what seemed like hours before he sighed and placed his hands on his hat which rested on his knee. "Atticus, you heard about Tom Robinson," he spoke, staring straight ahead into the distance.

Jean felt her heart jolt. Was Tom Robinson the man Bob Ewell was accusing of raping his daughter?

"Yes, sir," Atticus replied simply.

John nodded slowly. "Grand jury will get around to chargin' him tomorrow," he paused. "I…I was thinkin' of appointing you to take his case."

Jean saw her husband glance quickly at John before casting his eyes to his knees and furrowing his brow. Was John serious? There was no way on God's earth Atticus could win this. A black man up against an all white jury? Why, he didn't stand a chance. But yet, Jean knew what his answer would be.

"I'll take the case," he said. That was her Atticus. Never one to stand by and let an innocent man go to jail without giving him the best possible defence.

John only nodded again. "I'll send a boy round for you tomorrow when his hearing comes up." He informed him and stood from his chair to leave as quickly as he had arrived. "And Atticus? Thank you," he called back as he reached the porch steps.

"Yes, sir."

When John had disappeared around the corner, Jean grasped Atticus' hand tightly in hers. "Bob Ewell is accusing Tom Robinson of rapin' his daughter?" She asked for clarification. Surely she had picked this up wrong.

"He is," Atticus nodded.

"That's ridiculous. Any time I've passed Link Deas's yard he's been nothin' but a gentleman. He would never do somethin' so despicable," Jean argued.

"I know he's innocent, that's why I agreed to take the case. Any other court appointed lawyer would only give a half hearted defence when it's a black man on trial but I intend to defend him as best as I possibly can. He deserves that at least," he replied.

"Honey, you know you don't stand a chance of winnin'," Jean breathed out. She hated that she sounded so negative but it was the God's honest truth.

"I know that, too. But I have to do this, Jean. I have to put up some kind of fight for him. It's about time things in this town started to change," he responded with a shake of his head.

He was right, of course, but what chance did he stand against the backwards racists of a small Alabama town? There was no possible way he could do anything to change their way of thinking. He was only one man. But he was also her husband and she would support him in whatever he decided to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Jean had slept uneasily that night. She had tossed and turned so much that she eventually caused Atticus to wake.

"Stop worrying." He had mumbled tiredly, draping his arm over her to hold her still.

"I'm not worrying," Jean had whispered back childishly. Atticus had only laughed quietly and pulled her closer to him.

Jean had continued to internally fret. While Atticus may be respected and well-liked within the town, she knew his popularity would take a hit when news got around that he was defending Tom Robinson. The people of Maycomb might be a friendly folk, but they were as backward as they came and always seemed to lose their heads about anything concerning a black person. She was scared for her husband. She might be able to live with the insults that would no doubt be thrown at him, and probably her too, but it was the thought that someone might physically hurt him that had Jean plagued with worry. She didn't think she'd be able to live if anything happened to him.

The case was doomed from the start; Jean had known that much from the very first moment she had heard it would be Tom Robinson on the stand. Atticus may be determined that he would give the man the best possible defence he could but he had no hope of getting an acquittal. In the eyes of Maycomb, Tom Robinson was as guilty as sin. While Atticus was no stranger to losing a court case, Jean knew that losing this one would effect him more than any other had. He'd always said that every lawyer got at least one case in his life that affected him personally, and he supposed that this one was his. All Jean could do was stand by his side and support him with everything she had in her.

Jean had sworn that she would keep her worries about the case to herself, the last thing she wanted was Atticus worrying about _her_ on top of everything else, but when the next day rolled around she couldn't help but bring up the subject to Cal with the hopes of finding some relief in unburdening herself.

"Did you hear about Tom Robinson, Cal?" She sat with her head propped in her hand, absentmindedly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. She hadn't been able to get the man off her mind all night.

"I sure did, Miss Jean," Cal replied, not stopping in her preparations for that afternoon's dinner. Jean paid no mind to this, Cal usually was one for working and talking at the same time.

"It's awful. It's downright _awful._ I've lost count of the times that man has helped me carry my bags or given Jem or Scout a caramel cream when they were fussing over something. To think that someone is accusing him of taking advantage of a woman is beyond belief," Jean slowly shook her head and frowned. When she thought about who was accusing him, she supposed it wasn't really that hard to believe. Bob Ewell always did like making life difficult for others.

"It sure is, Miss Jean." Cal replied in the same tone of voice, banging pots onto the stove and closing doors with more force than usual.

Jean lifted her head from her fist and stared warily at Cal's back which was still facing her. "Did you know that Atticus has been appointed to defend him?" She asked slowly.

"Yes, ma'am," Cal replied stiffly, banging another drawer shut.

Now Jean was a little alarmed. "Cal, is everything alright?" She stood from her chair, coffee cup in hand, and took a few slow steps towards her.

Cal turned suddenly and opened her mouth to speak before thinking better of it and turning back to the kitchen island. "Yes, Miss Jean, everything's just fine."

Jean wasn't convinced. "Cal, you know Atticus will do whatever he can to make sure Tom gets a fair trial. I know how close your community is and if that's what's worrying you all, it shouldn't. Atticus is all for equality, he isn't going to give Tom a half-hearted defence just because of the colour of his skin," she told her, half to reassure her, half to speak up in defence of her husband. If people thought Atticus wasn't going to put everything he had into this case she wanted it to be known that he had every intention of fighting fiercely for Tom's innocence.

Cal sighed and turned back from the island to face her. "Miss Jean, I know Mr Finch is goin' to do whatever he can, I _know_ that. It's just that, right now, Tom feels..." She trailed off awkwardly.

"Tom feels what, Cal?" Jean pressed her gently.

Cal hesitated for a moment longer. "Tom just doesn't feel like he can trust any white person after what's happened. It doesn't matter that it's Mr Finch, he's still feelin' a little wary about any white man," she told her slowly.

Jean couldn't blame him. After what Bob Ewell was falsely accusing him of, he had every right to be wary of Atticus. To Tom, Atticus was probably just another white man who didn't give a damn whether he lived or died. Atticus would have to go that extra mile to win Tom's trust, but she had every faith in her husband and that he would be able to assure him that he was there to act in his best interests. Atticus always did have a way of calming turbulent seas.

When she didn't reply, Cal spoke again. "I'm sorry, Miss Jean, I shouldn't have said that."

Jean mentally shook herself. "Cal, you have no need to apologise. After what we've done to your people over the years, it should be me sayin' sorry to you," she watched as Cal swallowed and turned back to the island without saying a word. "Are you close to Tom's family?" She decided to change the subject.

"I am, Miss Jean. I helped bring Helen's babies into the world and I do what I can to help out seein' as my babies are all grown. And, boy, does she need that help. She don't have an easy life, Miss Jean, and it's not going to get any easier. I don't know how she's goin' to provide for those children of hers." Cal's brow furrowed as she shook her head.

Jean found herself thinking for a few moments. Surely there was something for Helen? "Maybe Link Deas will offer her something? Tom's worked in his yard for years so he'll know his character. Maybe to make up for losing him he'll offer Helen something. Just a little something that will make it so she's able to provide for her children." She wracked her brain. She could guess that Helen had been left floundering after Tom had been taken to jail. She could only imagine how stressful it would be not knowing when she and her children would eat next, would they have warm clothes for when the winter arrived and just how they would get by in general without Tom's pay check coming in.

"Maybe, Miss Jean, maybe." Cal sighed dejectedly. "Lord, I feel mighty sorry for her. I called round to see her and her babies last night and, she might have been smiling, but I can tell she's takin' it real hard."

Jean slumped back against her chair and thought of the turmoil that family had been plunged into as a result of Bob Ewell. He might be the most loathed and disrespected member of the community, but a jury would sooner take his word over that of a black mans even when the black man had done nothing of the sort before. "Bob Ewell is trash," she spoke so lowly she was surprised that Cal even heard her.

"Yes he is, ma'am, yes he is."

She felt hot anger towards Bob Ewell knowing he was getting some sick pleasure from putting an innocent man in jail. He was bound to have known what would unfold for Tom Robinson the moment he accused him and the thought made Jean want to shake him until his head fell off. He was such a loathsome man she really didn't understand how he hadn't been run out of town. She had yet to meet a person who said "that Bob Ewell really is the ray of sunshine Maycomb so badly needs". He was a hateful man and the whole of Maycomb knew it.

The sound of Scout's pitiful sniffling brought Jean out of her thoughts about Bob Ewell. She heard her get closer and closer until she was standing in the doorway and looking tearfully at Jean.

"Mama, Jem was pushin' me down the street in the tire but he went and pushed me too hard and I fell out." She told her mother as tears continued to flow down her cheeks. "Look, Mama." She presented her leg to Jean who could see the hole in her daughter's overalls and the blood seeping from a nasty gash on her knee.

Immediately, Jean was on her feet and taking her daughter in her arms. "Oh, baby, come here." She kissed her forehead and swung her onto the kitchen table to assess her injury. "I'm sure he didn't mean for you to fall out. You know your brother just gets a little bit excited sometimes." She spoke soothingly towards her and moved the bits of ripped fabric back from her knee. "I'll get you cleaned up in no time, baby. Cal, could you get me some water to clean Scout up? And a bandage, please?" She asked Cal pleasantly as Scout wrapped her arms around her mother's waist and buried her head in her chest.

As she did so, Jem and Dill skulked into the kitchen, Dill refusing to look anywhere but at his feet and Jem regarding his sister warily. "Mama, I didn't mean for her to fall out, I just pushed the tire too hard. It wasn't my fault it rolled away off!" Jem began to defend himself, causing Jean to turn her head towards him.

"Honey, I'm not blaming you, but don't push her so hard in future, you've really banged her up. What were you pushing that old tire towards anyway?" Jean asked, taking the cloth and bandage from Cal who had reappeared.

"We were just rollin' it into…" Dill started to pipe up.

"Nothin, Mama," Jem quickly interjected and quieted him.

Jean turned again and raised an eyebrow at her son. She'd been his mother for ten years, did he really think he could hide something from her? He always got fidgety when he lied to her and right now he was twitching like a sleeping dog.

"Jem, what were you doin' with that tire?" She asked him sternly. She continued to watch as Jem reached up and scratched the back of his neck, a sure indication that he was definitely hiding something from her. "Jem," she asked again.

"We were just pushin' it and it rolled into the Radley's yard," Jem mumbled yet he still wouldn't meet her eye.

"And you came straight back out onto the street once you helped Scout, didn't you?" Jean began to challenge him. If they'd been doing what she thought they'd been doing…well, she wouldn't be pleased.

"Mrs Finch, I dared him to touch Boo Radley's door," Dill spoke up sheepishly, his eyes still glued to his shoes.

Jean sighed deeply and eyed her son. "Jem, what have your daddy and me told you about tormenting that man? How would you like it if me or your daddy came and started knocking insistently on your bedroom door when you wanted to be left alone? I'm telling all of you now to _stay away_ from that house. Arthur Radley isn't some exhibit in a circus for you to be gawking at," she reprimanded them.

For the past few weeks her children and Dill had been making all kind of plots to make their neighbour, Arthur Radley, come out of his house. Just at the beginning of the summer Atticus had come home for dinner and found them reenacting Arthur's personal life in the back yard. Jean had thought they would listen when Atticus had given them the order to stop whatever it was they were doing but it only seemed to encourage them more.

"Jem was tryna get Boo to come out again," Scout told her mother, her tears having subsided as she looked smugly at Jem. Since she was able talk, Scout had always been fond of reporting back to her mother when Jem was doing something he shouldn't.

"You were with us too, stupid," Jem shot back, looking daggers at her.

"So you _were_ back to doing that?" Jean crossed her arms over her chest.

"No, Mama, we were just…we were just playin'," he finished lamely.

"Well, find somethin' else to play," she replied sharply. "And that goes for you too, miss." She bopped Scout on her nose before lifting her from the table. "I reckon your knee is just fine so back out into the yard you go. And I don't want to hear anymore from you all about tryin' to get Mr Radley to come out, alright?" She eyed them all individually and watched as they nodded mutely in acknowledgment.

"C'mon," Jem then spoke and ushered Scout and Dill out through the screen door.

"Where are you all goin' now?" Jean asked, daring them to give her a good answer.

"Downtown to see if we can see Atticus," Jem called back sullenly without looking at her, proceeding to mumble something under his breath that went unheard by his mother.

Jean watched them traipse out of the yard with pursed lips and her hands on her hips. "What am I going to do with them, Cal?"

oOoOoOo

When Atticus arrived home later that evening, he informed his wife that he had been able to get a postponement on Tom's trial but had been unable to work it so Tom could spend the time leading up to his trial at home. He had confided in her that he was secretly glad as he felt Tom would be a lot safer in jail where he couldn't be reached. The only thing that was left to do now was to tell Helen of what was happening. Sensing an opportunity to do something to help the woman, Jean immediately offered to go with him to see Tom's family. Truthfully, she had expected Atticus to object and tell her to stay with Jem and Scout but, to her surprise, he'd said he'd quite like for her to come along and had asked Cal if she would stay with the children. Jean supposed he wanted her with him seeing as it probably wasn't an easy task for him and wouldn't be one that he would particularly enjoy either.

He'd been quiet most of the drive out to Tom's house, only speaking up to say he didn't know how he'd make Helen see that being in jail was the best thing for Tom at the moment. On his last visit, Helen had been sure that they'd let Tom come home until his trial started despite Atticus' insistence that it wouldn't be safe for him. He'd told her not to get her hopes up, she had, and now he had to break the news to her that her husband was being held in jail until the start of the trial.

As they pulled up outside the little cabin, she noticed Atticus sigh heavily once they had gotten out of the car. In a matter of seconds, she had closed the space between them and took his hand in hers. "Honey, it'll be fine. It's awful of me to say this but, I reckon she's so used to bad news at this point she'll sort of be expecting it. And if she crumbles, well, I'm here to help calm her down. You aren't doing this on your own." She squeezed his hand as they climbed on the porch. She had never seen a case have such an effect on him and, quite frankly, it was starting to worry her. The last thing she wanted was Atticus making himself sick.

"Jean, I don't think that woman can take anymore bad news. I feel like the devil himself every time I have to come out here and tell her something she doesn't want to hear." Atticus got out quickly as Helen Robinson appeared in the front door of the little cabin.

"Mr Finch, am I mighty glad to see you!" She spoke with a wide smile making Jean wonder how she could stay so upbeat when her world had practically been turned upside down. "I ain't heard a thing about Tom since he was taken away."

Atticus smiled graciously at her and shook her hand. "I came out to tell you exactly what way things are with Tom, Helen. I hope you don't mind that I brought my wife, Jean, along?" He turned briefly to her as she extended her own hand to Helen.

"Not at all, Mr Finch. Why don't you both come on inside." She gestured for them to enter the small cabin and Atticus stood back to let Jean enter before him.

The first thing that struck Jean was just how homely the place was. Despite the small space she had to work with, Helen Robinson had managed to make the place as warm and inviting as she possibly could. Three children were also sitting around the cabin and stood immediately when Atticus and Jean entered.

"Mr Finch, Mrs Finch, this is Tom junior, Rachel and Lucy," Helen proudly introduced her children who stood regarding them warily. Little Lucy, who couldn't have been more than five years old, quickly moved to Helen's side and took her hand. "Why don't you both sit down." She nodded to the old sofa at the bottom of the room which looked to be in danger of collapsing.

Gingerly, Jean lowered herself onto the sofa next to her husband who waited until Helen had sat beside them on the only armchair in the room before explaining why he had come to see her.

"Helen, I'll start with the good news first. I've managed to get a postponement on Tom's trial which will give things time to cool down before the case comes to court. Right now, the town is just so caught up in having a scandal that they can't take a step back to look at things. Hopefully, with time, they'll be able to take a more logical look at the charges and who's making them," Atticus explained and Jean couldn't miss the faint note of hope in his voice that maybe he would be right. She discretely placed her hand in his and gave his fingers a squeeze.

"I don't think a postponement is gonna do one shred of good, Mr Finch. The whole town goes crazy when somethin' concerning one of us comes up. I appreciate the effort you probably went to but it ain't going to make any difference," Helen shook her head slowly and Jean couldn't help but agree with her. "What's the bad news?" She then asked.

Atticus shifted somewhat in his seat. "Tom will be held in the Abbotsville jail until the trial begins," he told her plainly and some of the light left her eyes. "I'm sorry, Helen, but it's the best thing for him at this point. To have him home would not only put his life in danger, but also yours and the lives of your children. You'll all be much safer with Tom being held in Abbotsville."

Helen's grip around the child on her knee went slack. "I thought he'd come home to me. Even if it was just for a little while I thought he would come home to me," her voice was barely a whisper. "You say it's safer when he's in jail but it sure don't feel safe without him here, Mr Finch. It don't feel safe at all."

"I understand your fears, Helen, but nothing will happen to you, I promise," Atticus reassured her. "If you wish, I can try and get visitation rights for you to see Tom in Abbotsville? It'll be difficult but I can try," he then offered kindly.

"If you could do that, Mr Finch, I'd be mighty grateful. I can't imagine myself without Tom so it would be real nice if they'd let me see him." She gave him a weak smile and raised one hand to brush away the tears which had fallen from her eyes.

Jean felt her heart shatter and quickly spoke up before Atticus could say anything else. "How are you getting by, Helen? I mean, are you able to look after your children alright?" She asked thoughtfully. She needed to know that Helen and her children weren't going to die of starvation while Tom was being held.

Helen inhaled deeply and retightened her grip around her daughter. "Oh, it ain't so bad, Mrs Finch. Mr Link Deas said he'd keep givin' us Tom's pay check even though he ain't workin' cause he knows what Mr Ewell is like," a small smile flickered on her lips. "Don't you worry about us, Mrs Finch, we'll be alright."

"I can't help but worry about you, Helen. I'm a wife and mother too so I can't help but put myself in your shoes. I don't know what I'd do in your situation but Lord knows I wouldn't be handling it as well as you are," she paused. "I'm goin' to come out here and see you every chance I get just to make sure you're alright. I'll bring Cal with me whenever I can, too, seeing as you're close with her," Jean offered kindly. She knew the Ewell's lived not too far from Helen's cabin so she wanted to do whatever she could to ensure Helen stayed safe while Tom wasn't around.

At her offer, Helen blushed faintly. "Mrs Finch, you don't need to do that. You can't leave your children to come out here and see me. We'll be fine."

"I'll take them with me. They come with me everywhere else so comin' out here shouldn't be a problem," Jean countered. "I want to help you, Helen," she said gently but firmly. She saw Helen open her mouth to argue again but she thought against it.

"That would be real nice, Mrs Finch. I'd really appreciate that," her voice started to shake again.

Jean nodded slowly and turned her head to her husband who sat regarding her with a warm smile. While Helen had looked away, he adjusted his hand in hers to rub his thumb over her fingers. "Well, Helen, that was really everything I came out to tell you," he spoke up. "I'll keep working on trying to get visitation rights at Abbotsville and I'll be back out as soon as I know anything else." He stood from the sofa with Jean's hand still held tightly in his.

"Thank you again, Mr Finch, sir. As long as I know Tom is ok then I'm ok," she paused. "Please just try and let me see him." She pleaded weakly and shifted her daughter in her arms.

"I'll do everything I can," Atticus assured her as they all moved towards the front door of the cabin. "I'll be back soon and I suspect you'll see my wife here very soon."

Helen stood in the doorway and watched as they made their way to the car and headed back along the dirt road. They hadn't been driving five minutes when Atticus broke the silence. "That's a really nice thing you offered to do for her, Jean. I suspect she's more grateful for it than she can show." He turned his eyes briefly from the road to look at her.

"It's nothin'. If anything happened to you I know I'd be grateful for any help comin' my way. It's the least I can do for her," Jean replied.

One of Atticus' hands left the wheel to come and rest on her thigh. "You're a wonderful woman, Jean Finch, don't let anyone tell you different."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I worked a full day before writing this, so this is a caffeine fuelled extravaganza of a chapter. (Three cups of coffee were drank in the process of writing, so if anything seems weird or off it's because I'm wired right now ha)

* * *

"Smells like a dream in here," Atticus said, coming through to the kitchen one weekday evening. "What's the occasion?"

Standing guard over a bubbling stovetop, Jean didn't turn to look at him. "I'm making it for Helen. I thought that, maybe if I brought it out, she could use the money she would have spent on food on buying things for the children. Winter will be here soon, so they'll need warm clothes."

"You're always two steps ahead, love." Atticus replied, kissing her temple and reaching around her for the teapot.

Jean had kept her promise to Helen and called out as often as she could during the week. Although Helen was surrounded by family and friends, Jean was the only person who was close to her own age, so Helen not only appreciated Jean's help but also her company. Helen was struggling with not having Tom around, and it wasn't made any easier by not knowing when the next time she would see her husband would be. Atticus had been trying fiercely to get visitation rights for Helen and the children, but so far he was hitting a brick wall each time, which suddenly reminded Jean.

"You were at Abbotsville again today, weren't you?" She stopped stirring suddenly, the note of hope in her voice unmistakable. At seeing Helen's desperation to see her husband first hand, Jean felt as though it were her own personal battle.

At the table, Atticus sat stirring his tea. "I was." He nodded.

"And?"

"Nothing," he said, dejectedly. Immediately, Jean turned off the stove and sat across from him.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." She reached across the table and took his hand. "I know how hard you were fightin'"

"I don't know how I'm gonna tell Helen." Atticus replied, reaching under his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Jean suddenly noticed just how _tired_ her husband looked. "She was really counting on this."

Jean squeezed his hand. "You know you don't have to do this alone. I'll come with you with you tell her." She reassured him, wanting nothing more than to relieve the burden he was carrying.

She knew just how heavy this burden was becoming on him. Already he was working late into the night and having trouble sleeping, each a sign of stress that Jean had only seen a few times before. This was likely to be the biggest case of her husband's career, and Jean was going to make sure it wasn't the case that ended up causing Atticus his health.

In response, Atticus only ran his thumb across her hand. "Thank you," was his simple reply.

oOo

When they told Helen she crumbled, and it had taken Jean at least fifteen minutes to calm her down and remind her that she needed to stay strong for her children. Atticus, upset at Helen's reaction, had excused himself to the front porch, and Jean knew he was berating himself for not having tried harder. After Jean had finally settled Helen down she left the house and found Atticus leaning against the car staring at nothing.

"You ok?" Jean asked, placing her hand on his arm.

Atticus continued staring into the night. "I should have done more," he answered.

"Honey, you're doing everything you can." Jean rubbed his arm. "None of this is your fault, and Helen isn't blaming you."

Her husband merely glanced at her, almost as if he didn't believe her, and climbed into the car. Jean prayed to God to relieve his burden.

As the weeks of August continued to rolled by, Scout's first year of school came closer and closer. While Jean was still in a state of disbelief that her baby was leaving her, Scout was bubbling with excitement at being like her older brother and heading to school for the first time. Without meaning to, Atticus and Jean had taught both their children to read at an early age when they would climb into their laps and read whatever they happened to be reading at the time. Scout couldn't wait to get to school and get her hands on the array of books she was sure would be on offer to her. Her excitement at the prospect of more reading material had Jean making a mental note to pick up some books at Christmas.

When August started to come to a close, Jean decided she would need to take Scout into town and get her the appropriate clothing for starting school. Scout lived in her overalls and hadn't been impressed at all by the fact that she would have to swap them for the dresses she hated so much. Scout very much reminded Jean of herself when she was that age. At six years old, she had also detested wearing frilly little dresses that only got in the way when she and her sister would go out with their older brother. Often, she had sneaked a pair of overalls or trousers with her and changed into them along the way. While her mother hadn't minded her two daughters wearing overalls around the house, she had expected them to, and made them, dress like ladies when they were out in public. Jean had been fourteen before she put on a dress without having to be coerced into by her mother and reckoned her little baby would be the same.

As they walked around the store, Jean could only watch with a little smile as Scout pulled out different dresses and scrunched her nose up at them before pushing them back. This went on for a while before she turned to Jean with a peeved expression on her face.

"Mama, why do I have to wear a darn old dress to school? Why can't I just wear my overalls?" She crossed her arms in front of her.

Jean laughed at the expected reaction from her daughter. "Baby, if I could send you to school in overalls I would, but we all have to do things we don't wanna do, and for you that is wearing a dress to school." She said, resulting in a dramatic sigh from Scout

"Oh, baby, it's only for _school_." Jean wrapped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her into her. "As soon as you get home, you can put them overalls back on and forget all about your dresses." She leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Talking of which, I reckon we got enough dresses here that'll do you for a while. You've got pink ones, blue ones, green ones, ones with polka dots, ones with stripes...why don't we go and pay for 'em and head down the street for ice cream? I hear they got a special delivery of strawberry in for a girl called Scout Finch," she bargained with her and watched Scout's eyes light up. Like her mother, Scout had a sweet tooth that could be used to convince her to do anything.

"Yes, please, Mama!" She grasped at Jean's arm and started pulling her towards the tills. "Jem didn't have enough money when we came downtown the other day and Atticus was in a meeting. I haven't had ice cream in _so long!_ " She eagerly dragged Jean through the shop, the issue of her hated dresses pushed completely from her mind.

Once everything had been paid for and placed in bags for Jean to carry, she made her way down the street with her daughter to the small ice cream parlour where Scout requested that her strawberry ice cream be dipped in sprinkles because it looked like a rainbow. They decided that, seeing as the weather was still so good and Jem would be kept busy with Dill, they would sit in the town green for a while before heading off home.

Scout sat reclined back against her mother's side happily licking her ice cream as they watched the town move by. She appeared to be as happy as the day is long to simply sit with her mother but, after a while, she began to fidget a little.

"You alright, baby?" Jean asked her as she shifted under her arm once more.

"Mhmm," she replied and sat stock still for a few moments. "Mama, I'm scared," she then said quietly after a spell of silence.

Slightly perplexed, Jean sat up a little straighter. "Honey, what on earth are you scared of?"

"School," Scout spoke in the same small voice. "What if no one likes me? At home I have Jem and even when we fuss sometimes he still plays with me. If no one likes me at school, I won't have Jem," she confided in her mother who could tell this had been building for a while.

"You know, I was scared when I first started school, too," Jean began to try and reassure her daughter.

"No you weren't. Mama, you're not scared of _anything_. You get the spiders out of my room when they come in," Scout quickly interjected which caused Jean to laugh.

"There're different kinds of fear, honey," Jean laughed. "Me and your aunt and uncle didn't have any other kids around when we were growing up, so I knew _no one_ when I first went to school. I was so scared the first day my mama left me at that school that I started crying and nearly broke Mama's heart," she paused to let Scout have the chance to speak if she wanted to.

"I can't imagine you cryin' either. You _never_ cry." She said idly and started playing with Jean's fingers, taking off her engagement and wedding rings and placing them on her own finger.

"Well, baby, I cried that day. So much that my mama nearly took me right back out of the place and back home. But then this little blonde thing called Abigail came up to me and said she was scared too so why didn't I come and play with her and maybe, together, we wouldn't be so scared. Abigail stayed friends with me for the rest of my life and I'd still say she's one of my closest friends today. So, baby, you don't need to be scared. One thing you aren't is shy, my dear, you won't have any problems makin' friends. Even if you do wear overalls instead of dresses." She gave her daughter a playful nudge and watched as she smiled in response.

"Do you think people will like me, Mama?" She then asked, going back to playing with Jean's fingers. She might be trying to pass them off as casual questions, but it was obvious these little things had been bothering her for quite some time.

"I can't see why they wouldn't, baby. You're a very likable little girl with a wonderful imagination, I'm sure you're goin' to make plenty of friends. Don't you be worried about that. And even if you don't, you'll still have your ol' mama," she added teasingly. Scout was such a bubbly little thing that she couldn't imagine her coming home from her first day and saying that she hadn't made at least one friend.

"I love you, Mama." Scout said and pulled her mother's arm further across her.

Jean smiled tenderly down at her. "I love you too, baby."

They fell back into silence again with Jean looking across the way and laughing to herself at the sight of Maudie Atkinson haggling ferociously with the owner of the grocery store over what Jean guessed was her baking essentials. She thought he must have been mad. Everyone in Maycomb knew you didn't start an argument with Maudie unless you wanted cut to the bone. Like Scout, Maudie could be a spitfire when she wanted to be. She continued watching their arm raising conversation with the grocer getting redder in the face by the second and then suddenly, her vision was obscured by a pair of hands going over her eyes. She froze until she felt lips press to her cheek and heard Scout giggling, realising that it could only be Atticus.

"Mr Finch, are you tryin' to give me a heart attack?" She playfully chided him as he lifted Scout's legs and let them rest across his knee, allowing him to sit next to his wife.

"Don't act all innocent, honey, you would have done worse to me. Think of it as a small payback for all the emotional damage you've caused me over the years, you devil," he teased her as Scout watched the whole exchange with a grin on her face.

"Atticus, did you know that Mama cried on her first day of school?" She laughed and looked impishly back at her mother. Jean stuck her tongue out at her and glanced back at Atticus.

"I did. It was because you forgot your pencil box, wasn't it, honey?" Atticus continued to tease her.

Scout laughed again. "Mama, why would you cry over forgettin' your _pencil box_? All you had to do was ask someone to give you one."

"Baby, your daddy is just tryin' to be funny. He isn't doing a good job, but we'll give him some credit for tryin'." Jean laughed and ruffled Scout's hair.

"Did you get everything for school, Scout?" Atticus asked his daughter as she turned back to rest against Jean's side.

She sighed loudly. "I got dresses," she muttered.

Atticus cracked a smile and glanced at his wife. "What's wrong with dresses? I think you look like a picture in them."

"I don't _like_ wearin' dresses, Atticus," she continued to mutter and turned her head further into Jean's arm.

"Now, honey, it's only for a few hours every day. I'm sure you can manage that. Who knows, you might even end up liking them." Atticus held back a laugh and rested his hand on Scout's knee.

"I ain't ever gonna like them," she mumbled.

"You could surprise yourself, baby. Your mama never liked 'em either until she got older. All it could take is you doing a little more growin'." He patted her knee. "And even if you never like 'em, you'll still be our Scout who we don't mind much the way she is," he continued to try and reassure. It appeared to work as she pulled herself up from Jean's side and wrapped her arms around her father as best she could while he was sitting down. It never ceased to amaze Jean how easily Atticus could calm their children down. It was almost as if he had been born to be a father.

"You're finished early today, honey. Are you coming home with us?" Jean then observed as the church bells chimed three times. Usually, Atticus wasn't closing up his office until five at the earliest.

"I wish I could but I'm not finished just yet. I was with Heck talking about...talking about that case I have coming up when I saw you two ladies sunning yourselves over here." He poked Scout's side which caused her to laugh. "I should probably be gettin' back before people think I've gone missing." He ruffled Scout's hair and stood from the bench to kiss his wife. "I'll see you both this evenin'."

"Don't work too hard."

"See ya later, Atticus."

oOo

They had sat for a little longer after watching Atticus return to his office before Jean decided that they should both be heading home. Growing bored with sitting around in the town, Scout had agreed and walked on ahead of her mother, swinging around lampposts as they made their way home.

She had found that upon reaching home, she would have to try on all her dresses once again in order for Cal to mark where she needed to make the necessary alterations. Scout was small for her age, so all the dresses were either too long or so big that it looked as though she had been dressed in an old sack. She had dragged her feet when Jean had asked her to go and try on her dresses, saying they had plenty of time to be altered, she hadn't played with Jem all day, she was tired from walking around the town, Atticus would be home soon so Cal needed to start supper.

Jean had countered each one of her arguments, being a lawyer's wife had taught her many tricks, and said that the sooner she tried them all on, the sooner she was free to do what she wanted. Scout had finally agreed and moodily tried on each dress while Cal marked the hems, sleeves, chest and whatever else needed adjusting, and Jean told her daughter how absolutely becoming she looked in them. Once the whole process was over, she was quickly back into her overalls and dashing out into the yard with Jem and Dill.

The rest of the day passed as usual. Atticus arrived home shortly after five, they ate supper and the children then played out in the neighbourhood until it was time to come in for bed. When their nightly routines were complete, and Jem and Scout were fast asleep, Jean slipped out onto the front porch to wait for Atticus to join her like he always did. It wasn't long before he stepped out and joined her on the swing.

"Our baby is starting school next week." She said as Atticus wrapped his arm around her. Getting all of Scout's clothing sorted had made the fact even more real for Jean. Her little baby was growing up.

Atticus nodded. "She is. I don't think we can call her our baby anymore," he replied.

Jean scoffed. "Don't be silly, honey, you know they'll both always be our babies. They'll still be my little babies even when they're forty years old."

"Typical woman." Atticus teased her and kissed the top of her head.

She playfully nudged him in the chest but said no more on the matter. "I'm worried about her, Atticus. I'm worried about both of them."

"Honey, there's no need to worry. Jem's been at school four years now and Scout…well, Scout is Scout. If she doesn't make people like her she'll make them fear her," Atticus laughed.

"No, it's not that." Jean twisted under his arm. "With you defending Tom and the whole town knowin', I'm just worried that someone will say something to them. Jem might be able to keep his head but it won't take much for Scout to turn on someone," she said. Scout was notorious for getting into fights with people and it would only take one wrong comment from someone before she would jump on them. No matter how many times Atticus or Jean told her that fighting was unacceptable, she was never long putting someone in their place when her pride was hurt.

She felt Atticus let out a long puff of air and repositioned his arm around her. "They'll probably hear some talk of it around school but as long as Jem keeps his head Scout should follow. You know she follows his example," he tried to reassure her.

"I don't know, honey. She may follow Jem's example when he's always around at home, but they won't be together at school. You know what she's like, Atticus." She strained her neck to look up at him.

"She'll be fine, honey. She'll have to learn quickly that fightin' isn't going to help any of this. Give her time, Jean, just give her time," he replied.

"How bad is this going to be, Atticus?" She asked after a beat. He hadn't really discussed the trial with her since their visit to Helen Robinson and she was beginning to feel a little out of the loop.

"It couldn't be worse. You know what people in this town are like about anything that concerns a black person. They just lose their heads completely. Every person I've spoken to since gettin' this case has told me I'm crazy to go ahead with it. Some of them have even said it'll be the end of me," he chuckled dryly. "We'll all get through it, Jean, every one of us. I promise you we'll all get through it. Tom will be ok, Jem and Scout will be ok and I'll be ok." He gave her a squeeze.

For the first time in her life, Jean didn't think she believed him.


	4. Chapter 4

All too quickly August had drawn to a close and Scout's first day of school arrived on the first of September. When Jean finally stirred that morning, it was with a little pang of sadness that her little baby was starting to grow up. It was only a few years until Scout turned ten, then she'd be a teenager, then she'd be moving to God knows where to attend university. If Jean could have one wish it would be to freeze life at exactly the way it was, keeping Jem and Scout as her babies forever. She never wanted them to grow up.

Turning her head, she saw Atticus sprawled out across the bed beside her, one arm half draped across her as he continued snoring gently. Jean laughed quietly to herself and pulled the duvet up over his shoulders. One thing that she was always jealous of was her husband's ability to sleep like a log no matter what. If the house happened to crumble down round them during the night, rest assured Atticus would sleep the entire way through it.

Jean carefully pulled herself from the bed, taking great care not to jostle around too much so as Atticus could have a little more sleep. He was working so hard and so late recently that she wanted to make sure he got all the rest he possibly could. Quickly selecting a dress from their wardrobe, she got washed up and dressed, and reemerged from the bathroom to find Atticus up and about.

"Did I wake you?" She asked, becoming slightly annoyed at herself. Atticus hadn't fallen into bed until after midnight the previous night and was sound asleep within minutes, a sure indication that he was completely exhausted as it usually took him a good half hour to fall asleep.

"Yes, you wicked woman." He replied, never turning as he pulled his own clothes from the wardrobe. "You should feel terrible." He finally turned and smiled at her. "No, honey, I didn't even hear you leave the bed. For once it wasn't your fault," Atticus teased her.

"You are the absolute devil, Atticus Finch." She replied and stretched up to kiss him.

"You wouldn't have me any other way." He smirked down at her.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey."

"I wouldn't know. You always wake me."

"Oh, hush, you. Go and get dressed while I get Scout's things laid out for her." Jean patted his chest and freed herself from his grip. "Get Jem up on your way past?" She called back to him over her shoulder. Jem was always difficult to rouse on the first day of school. She didn't know what tactics he employed, but Atticus was the only one who could get him out of bed and sitting at the breakfast table on early mornings.

Unsure of whether her daughter would be awake or not, Jean quietly creaked open her bedroom door only to find her sitting up in bed hugging her knees to her chest. "Good morning, baby," she said cheerily and made her way across the room to Scout's wardrobe. "Are you lookin' forward to school?" She asked, pulling out a light pink striped dress that Scout had settled on wearing the previous day.

"Mhmm." She replied quietly, her quick swipes to her eyes going unseen by her mother.

Jean started humming peacefully to herself as she retrieved the rest of Scout's outfit from her chest of drawers, but stopped abruptly when Scout sniffled loudly. "Oh, baby, what's the matter?" She sat beside her daughter and put her arms around her, startled by the fact that she was crying.

"Mama, I'm scared." She whimpered and burrowed herself further into Jean's chest.

Automatically, Jean began to stroke her hair and make soothing noises to try and calm her. She felt somewhat guilty that she hadn't noticed how afraid her daughter still was over starting school. She and Jem were the only children in the neighbourhood and they only really had each other. Scout was probably petrified of going into a class of children who she not only wouldn't know, but who had probably all already gotten to know each other over the years. She rested her chin on Scout's head and began to rock them both back and forward.

"I thought you were excited for school, honey?" She asked. All summer long Scout had been talking about how she couldn't _wait_ to start school and be like Jem.

"I _am_ , Mama, but I'm scared, too." Scout replied as her arms went around Jean's waist.

Jean thought for a moment. "Baby, do you see how much Jem enjoys school?" She whispered quietly.

"Yes'm, but Jem's got his friends. He doesn't ever cry on the first day," Scout replied with Jean picking up she may be more annoyed at herself for crying than anything else.

"Jem was in the exact same position as you are on his first day. He knew no one and your poor brother was just as nervous about the whole thing as you are," Jean told her.

"No he wasn't, Mama. Jem told me he couldn't wait to start school and he didn't cry," Scout's muffled voice replied.

Jean scoffed as she thought back to Jem's first day of school. "Honey, you know your brother isn't goin' to admit to you that he cried, but I'm telling you now that he did. He sat on my knee in the old rocker in the living room cryin' about how he didn't want to leave me. It took your daddy and me nearly all morning to calm him down and get him on his way," she told her and noticed how Scout's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

"Really?" She asked, her tears having suddenly stopped.

"I swear on it. He cried so much I had to get him cleaned up again before he left the house. Then, when he came back home at dinner, he was all smiles talkin' to me about how he just _loved_ his teacher and he'd already made a little friend named Gerard. So, baby, don't think you're the only one who's nervous about startin' school. I'd put money on it that there are plenty of other little boys and girls crying to their mama's this mornin'." She squeezed her daughter in an attempt to comfort her.

"I can't believe Jem actually cried!" She laughed through her tears which caused Jean to laugh with her.

"Well, you better believe it because he did. Don't you be tellin' him I told you or he'll be moody for a week."

"I won't, Mama, I promise."

"That's my girl. Are you feelin' better?" She pulled back and playfully ruffled Scout's hair.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be alright now, Mama." She gave Jean a smile to reassure her that she was fine and hopped off the bed to retrieve her dress.

"Alright, baby. You come on down to the kitchen when you're ready." Jean stood from the bed and quietly left Scout's room, smiling at the sound of her daughter laughing to herself as she closed the door.

When Jean reached the kitchen, her husband and son were already sitting at the table while Cal was in the middle of serving them breakfast. As he always did during the school year, Jem looked like the perfect gentleman as he sat in his shirt and tie, almost like a miniature version of his father.

"Morning, mister." She playfully cuffed her son's ear as she walked past him to take her seat next to Atticus. "How did your daddy persuade you to get out of bed this morning?"

"He said he'd throw a cup of water over me if I didn't get up," Jem replied casually, as if it was something that happened on the regular.

Jean quirked an eyebrow and gave a half smile to her husband who shrugged his shoulders at her. "You told me to get him up."

Jean shook her head as Cal placed a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. "Cal, just what are we gonna do with ourselves today? I reckon we'll have either other driven crazy with it just being the two of us!" Jean said which caused Cal to chuckle.

"I don't know, Miss Jean. I was thinkin' about that just now. I'm sure we'll find somethin' to be doin'." She replied, sitting the coffee pitcher back on the stove. "Scout, is that you lurkin' in that hallway? Come on in here and show your daddy your pretty dress." Cal called out and Jean looked up to see Scout slowly making her way down the hall and pausing in the kitchen doorway.

Jem opened his mouth to say something but Jean quickly slapped his shoulder to stop him. She wasn't going to have him making this harder on Scout than it already was.

"Baby, come on in. I think your dress looks absolutely becomin' on you," Atticus called out which seemed to encourage Scout as she quickly skipped the distance to her chair at the table. Jean placed her free hand on his thigh to silently thank him; she didn't know what she'd ever do without him.

"Are you excited for school, Scout?" Cal asked, placing the milk jug down in front of her.

"I guess," she mumbled back, her eyes staying glued to the plate in front of her.

Cal quickly glanced to Jean before grinning. "Me and your mama are sure gonna miss you. It's gonna be awful quiet around here with you gone," she said knowingly.

"I sure am gonna miss you. I might just have to make you some crackling bread for when you come home just to have somethin' to do," Jean said and got a small smile from Scout. If there was one thing that cheered her daughter up, it was freshly made crackling bread.

"You never said you'd miss me whenever I started school." Jem then turned to Jean.

"Well, of course I missed my little baby boy when he left." Jean cooed at him and reached out to pinch his cheek. "I just cried and cried and cried until you came back home, didn't I, Cal?"

Jem cringed and pulled back from her as far as he could without falling off his seat. "You're so _embarrassin_ ', Mama," he muttered which caused Jean to cackle at him.

"Baby, you're gonna have no problems with school today, alright?" Atticus said gently across the table to Scout who was pushing her food around on her plate. "You just stay the same Scout you are here and you won't have any bother," he reassured her.

"Yes, sir." Scout replied faintly and took a half hearted mouthful of eggs.

Atticus then turned his attention to Jem. "Jem, you look after your sister today. You see to it that she knows where she's going and isn't left on her own," he addressed him firmly.

"Yes, sir."

"Mama, I don't think I can eat anymore of this." Scout spoke up quietly, pushing her plate away from her. Jean couldn't help but notice that she looked a little green.

"That's alright, baby, you just leave it there," Jean replied. "How about you and Jem get going now so he can show you where your room is," she suggested and watched Jem start to get excited. Even after four years, he still loved every day of school and could never get there quick enough.

"Yeah, Scout, c'mon. Do you wanna be late on your first day?" Jem turned to her before jumping off his seat.

"Alright, I'm comin'," she sighed heavily and jumped up after him. She stopped briefly to kiss Atticus' cheek and tightly hug Jean before running out the screen door after her brother.

"Well, Miss Jean, there she goes. It sure don't seem like it was more than yesterday you were rockin' that little thing goodnight," Cal stated with a shake of her head as they all stood at the screen door watching them go.

"It sure doesn't, Cal," Jean replied a little sadly. "They grow up so fast, don't they." She felt her eyes begin to prick as Atticus wrapped his arm around her.

"She'll always be our baby." He muttered quietly in her ear and pulled her tighter against his side. Jean turned her head and gave him a small smile, slowly coming to realise that he was right. He was always right.

oOoOoOo

Jean didn't know how she had passed the time from her husband and children leaving in the morning until the time that they were arriving home for dinner at midday. It had been so long since it had just been her in the house that she didn't quite know what she was supposed to do. It had been nice to have some time for herself, but after a while she had grown bored and had decided to clean the house simply to have something to do.

The closer the clock got to twelve, the more excited she got to see her children and ensure that Scout was having a good first day. They had only been away from her for a couple of hours but she found that she missed them desperately. After having them around her 24/7 during the summer months, it was odd to have the house sitting so silent without their constant chattering.

Atticus was the first to arrive home, and he could only laugh at the look of disappointment on Jean's face when she saw it was him coming through the door and not their children.

"I'll try and not take it personally that you're disappointed to see me." He joked and kissed her.

"What? No, honey, I'm not disappointed to see you," she replied, looking over his shoulder for any sign of Jem and Scout coming up the path. "I just want to know how Scout's day is going so far."

"Jeannie, she'll be _fine_. You know that Scout can hold her own better than anyone." He placed his arm around her waist and steered her towards the dining room. "Now, c'mon. You'll make her nervous again if you're dithering in the hallway waitin' on her."

She allowed him to take her through to the dining room and get settled, talking away about Horace Gilmer and how he would be representing the state in Tom Robinson's case. He talked about how Horace was a fair man but had the tendency to get caught up in winning that he resulted to many underhand tactics to harm the defence. So far, Atticus hadn't talked about how he planned on defending Tom, and Jean hadn't asked. When he knew, she'd know. As he was starting to discuss what Horace had to say about the whole case, the unmistakable sound of Jem and Scout chattering away to each other and making their way up the garden path caused Jean to grin and look towards her husband.

"She sounds happy," she said, still grinning.

"Mama!" Jem came running into the kitchen, accompanied by a watery looking boy Jean had never seen before. "Mama, this is Walter Cunningham. He's havin' dinner with us today," he told her rather than asked.

"Alright, honey, run on through and tell Cal," she nodded to the swinging door to the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, Walter, you're more than welcome here." She smiled at the boy as Atticus pulled out a seat to his right for the boy to take.

As Atticus engaged him in conversation, Scout stalked into the room with her eyes watching Walter. "Did you enjoy school, baby?" Jean asked as she took her seat.

She watched Scout's eyes flicker up to Walter and she opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. "Yes, Mama," she answered simply and kept her head bowed. Jean didn't press her.

Cal served the family roast for dinner that day, and Walter seemed in a state of shock at the sight of all the food sitting before him. As Atticus questioned Scout about her first day, to which her replies were still monosyllabic, he interrupted to ask Atticus for the syrup dish. Jean watched intently as he poured liberal amounts of the stuff over his dinner, not noticing the look of plain disgust on Scout's face.

"What in the Sam Hill are you doin', Walter?" She spoke up causing Jean to turn quickly to her.

"Scout!" She reprimanded her as Atticus tapped his finger on the table at her.

"Mama, look!" She continued. "He's drowned his whole food in syrup!"

Jean was about to reprimand her further until she was saved the trouble by Cal calling Scout through to the kitchen. It was long ago established that Cal done the disciplining where Jem and Scout were concerned. Neither Jean nor Atticus had the heart to whip their children and so they let Cal get on with it, knowing she wouldn't go too hard on them.

When Scout reappeared, it was with a red face and tears in her eyes as she lifted her plate and took it through to the kitchen. Jean tried to give her a smile but Scout refused to look at her as she skulked back through the swinging door. She glanced to her husband who merely shook his head at her and returned to his own dinner.

The rest of the meal passed without event and, quicker than she would have liked, Jean found it was then time for Jem and Scout to return to school. Jem and Walter went through to the kitchen to politely thank Cal for dinner and returned through the dining room, with Jem stopping to give his mother a kiss, and leaving down the hall. The moment the screen door had clattered shut, Scout reappeared and walked silently towards her parents, tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any moment.

"Atticus, I can't stand Calpurnia no longer!" She shouted, not caring that the woman in question was a room away.

"Now, Scout…"

"I can't! You just have to fire her! She likes Jem better'n me and…" She paused to try and get herself together again.

"Scout, you know you had that comin'," Jean spoke up.

"But, Mama!"

"No buts, Scout. You were in the wrong. You hold your tongue where other people are concerned. I want you to apologise to Walter when you get back to school," she said firmly.

Scout continued to look at her in disbelief and Jean could see her lower lip begin to tremble. Without another word, she dashed from the kitchen out onto the front porch, letting the screen door slam loudly behind her.

"I'll go." Atticus said as Jean made to stand.

"Go easy on her, honey." Jean replied and rubbed her forehead wearily.

As he left, Cal came through to the dining room to clean up the dinner plates, seemingly looking unaffected by what had went down. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Cal. You know what she's like," Jean apologised and was surprised to see Cal smile.

"Miss Jean, don't you go worryin'. That was mild compared to what my own babies say to me sometimes. She's a lil girl that's growin' up, you can't blame her," Cal chuckled.

"It was still out of line, Cal. You can expect an apology from her, don't worry." She said and pulled herself from her chair. "Right now, I better go and make sure she hasn't ripped out Atticus' throat." She left the dining room to go out onto the front porch but stopped at the screen door to listen to the conversation unfolding between her husband and daughter.

She picked up Atticus making a compromise with Scout that they'd continue reading together despite her teacher telling her that Atticus should stop. It then dawned on Jean that maybe school hadn't been what Scout was expecting. She heard Atticus tell her to get herself back to school before she was late and not to breathe a word to anyone of their compromise, which caused Jean to laugh slightly. As Scout bounded back down the porch, she caught sight of her mother standing listening in the hallway. She stopped suddenly on the porch and her cheeks flushed pink.

"I'm sorry, Mama." She pulled open the screen door to tightly hug Jean and rest her head under her chest. "I didn't mean to be so mean to Cal. She's alright."

"It's alright, baby. Don't make yourself upset." Jean kissed the top of her head. "Now get back to school before you're late." She pulled back and gently pushed her out through the door. "Scout!" She called just as she had ran down the porch steps. Her daughter stopped abruptly and turned back to look at her. "I love you."

Scout gave her a smile "I love you too, Mama." And with that she ran back up the street to catch up with Jem and Walter.

"I think you should quit that lawyerin' job you have and become a counselor, Mr Finch," she then turned to tease her husband as he approached.

"She just needs to get it all out sometimes. I don't think school met her expectations, but Jem didn't like it at first either so I reckon she'll be fine." He replied as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I know she will. And if all that fails, well, she knows a great lawyer to help get her off for potentially killin' someone," she bit back a smile as Atticus rolled his eyes.

"You're a horrible woman, Mrs Finch."

"I'm surprised it took you this long to notice."


	5. Chapter 5

As the months continued to roll by Jean was dismayed to see that Scout still didn't seem to take to school. There didn't seem to be an end to the tales of woe she would bring home each day. From classmates who stole some of her belongings to teachers who wouldn't let her do as she pleased, Scout always appeared to have eventful days at school. Most afternoons she would arrive home and immediately climb into Jean's lap in the rocker, seeking comfort that only a mother could provide. Jean had done what she could to alleviate her daughter's distress by giving her crackling bread, taking her for ice cream, and reading to her from her favourite books, but nothing worked in making her school experience more enjoyable.

Scout then began to whine to both Atticus and Jean as to why she couldn't just be taught at home like her father and Uncle Jack had been. After all, Jean and Cal were both at home and could teach her just as well as her teacher did. Atticus had told her that Jean and Cal were both too busy looking after the house to have any time to teach her, so to school she would keep going. She had sulked about angrily after that, not reading with her father in the evenings or permitting her mother to come near her to wish her a goodnight; angry at both of them for making her do something she really didn't want to do. It wasn't until Atticus threatened to tan her hide if she didn't stop moping around that she finally came back to her old self.

After a rocky start Jean could finally see her daughter settle, and Scout appeared to then enjoy school as much as Jem did.

"Mama, we're startin' to learn about the Egyptians in school this week," Jem told her excitedly one afternoon after coming home from school. It didn't matter what Jem was learning about, he got excited over every new thing they started to study. "My teacher said we wouldn't be where we are today without 'em. We wouldn't have _nothin_ ' without the Egyptians." He chattered on as Jean set a plate of crackling bread down on the table. "Did you know that when their Pharaoh's were mummified, they pulled their brains out through their noses with a hook?"

"Jem." Jean chastised him gently, wrinkling her nose up. While Jem may enjoy studying about such things, Jean was still a little squeamish at hearing about Ancient Egyptian mummifying practices.

"Sorry, Mama." He turned to grin at her. "I just think it's real interesting."

Across the table, Scout sighed. "I wish we learned about stuff like that. My teacher won't even let me write a damn letter."

Jean quickly turned to look sternly at her daughter. "Jean Louise, I don't want to hear language like that from you." She gave her a small pat on the wrist to reprimand her.

Scout scowled slightly at her mother using her full name, something she only did when she was mad, but it melted to a smirk when Jean's back was turned. "Everyone in school says it. I'm just sayin' it cause everyone else does." She bit into her crackling bread as her legs began to swing happily under the table.

"Scout, that's a lie. No one in school uses those kinda words," Jem said, carefully watching his sister.

"Maybe not in _your_ class but in mine all they say is hell and damn all the time. The other day one boy even said b..."

"That'll do, Jean Louise!" Jean said firmly.

Scout looked at her mother slightly hurt and Jean immediately felt guilty. She and Atticus tried to never raise their voices to their children and instead gently reason with them when they made mistakes. They were only children after all.

Feeling a sting of regret Jean rested her hands on Scout's shoulders. "Baby, bad language isn't becoming at all. You'll get into trouble with a lot more people than me if you keep it up. Promise me you'll stop using words like that. I'll be mighty disappointed if you keep it up." She smoothed down Scout's hair and kissed her head.

"Sorry, Mama. I won't say things like that again," she muttered and buried her face in her milk glass.

"That's my girl." Jean squeezed her shoulders in response. "Now, when you're both done, I want you and Jem to pull up some weeds in the front yard."

"Mama, we pulled up those weeds last week. You _watched_ us," Jem interjected, giving an exasperated sigh to his mother.

"Well, you didn't get 'em all. There's a huge big clump of 'em over by the garden path," Jean said. "And I've got two shiny nickels waiting in my purse when you do get 'em all." She tried not to smile as Jem's eyes widened and he gulped down his milk.

"Scout, c'mon! We can go to Elmore's on Saturday with two nickels!" He quickly jumped down from his chair and pulled Scout out of the kitchen with him whether she had been finished or not.

oOoOoOo

Scout's fondness of swearing never left her despite what Jean had told her. While she had promised her mother she would stop, there were still instances where her rather colourful vocabulary displayed itself. Atticus had greeted it with mild indifference and assured Jean that, if they simply ignored her, her desire to swear would gradually fade. The best thing to do was pretend as though they never heard her, as Atticus suspected it was an attempt to convince them to stop sending her to school. Jean was skeptical seeing as Scout seemed to have developed a genuine fondness for such words, but she went along with her husband; he always did seem to know what the right course of action was.

One early December when Jem and Scout had both returned home from school, Jean was surprised to come into the kitchen and hear them talking about Atticus. "Now, what are you two sayin' about that poor father of yours? Only good things I hope," she teased them, heading through to the utility room to start folding clothes.

"Mama, why doesn't Atticus _do_ anything?" Jem asked, following her through with Scout on his heels.

Jean laughed at him. "What did you mean, baby? Your daddy does plenty. He sees to it that innocent people don't go to jail and works hard at the legislature every time he's there."

"I don't mean that, Mama," Jem sighed. "I mean, he doesn't smoke or drink or hunt or do anything that my friends daddies do. He doesn't do anything _interestin_ '."

"Well, I'll tell you this." Jean said, straightening up and smiling at the two of them. "Your daddy told me he took a puff of a cigarette once when your Uncle Jack started smokin' and choked so much on the smoke of the thing he thought he was goin' to throw up," she laughed and Jem and Scout looked at each other. "As for drinking, well, your daddy doesn't like the taste of it, and I reckon he just doesn't have any interest in goin' hunting. I'd say if you asked Miss Maudie across the street she'd tell you all about what your daddy can do. She knew him long before I did."

"Atticus is so old, Mama," Scout then butted in. "I can't imagine him doin' _anything,_ even when he wasn't so old."

"Your daddy is only forty-seven!" Jean straightened up again, looking at her children with laughter in her eyes. "When you're both that age you'll both still feel like a pair of young things."

"It _is_ old, Mama," Jem agreed with his sister. "One time we asked Atticus why he was so old and he said it was because he got started late. I don't really know what he meant," he looked back at Jean.

"I reckon he just meant that he was thirty-six when he married me which is a little older than most people are when they get married," Jean explained. "There's life in him yet, Jem. Just you wait and see."

oOoOoOo

Jem and Scout hadn't believed their mother when she said Atticus was capable of doing many things besides work and read. Jem had even said she had to build him up like that because she was married to him because, according to him, once you got married you were only allowed to say nice things about your husband or wife. They had both then taken a trip over to Maudie's house the following week and returned unimpressed to tell Jean that all Atticus could do was play checkers and play the Jews harp, things they didn't believe put him in the same league as the rest of their friends daddies. Jean said nothing to this; she knew there would come a day where they saw what their daddy was really made of.

As December progressed onwards, Jean became busy getting everything prepared for Christmas, and so was thankful for the amount of time Jem and Scout still spent outside even with the weather becoming colder. One Saturday while they were both out keeping each other company and Atticus was at the office working on Tom Robinson's case, she decided to make the most of the time she had and wrap their Christmas presents. She and Atticus had gotten Jem a small chemistry set, a few books on the Egyptians seeing as he had become enthralled by them, and a few other little bits and pieces to make up his Christmas pile. For Scout, there was the collection of books Jean had been spending the past few months putting together, a small twirling baton which Atticus had been opposed to, saying she would end up bringing some of the lights down, and, like Jem, various other little pieces that she'd been going on about for the past while.

While Jean remained in her bedroom wrapping everything as quickly as she could, the sound of Jem and Scout coming barreling up the front porch caused her to quickly lift everything and push it hastily under the bed.

"Cal!" She heard Jem call out. "Cal, where's Mama? We need Mama!" He was out of breath and looking around him madly when Jean came out of her room.

"I'm here, baby. What's the matter? What's got you so excited?" Jean asked, pulling the door of her bedroom closed.

"Mama! There's a mad dog comin' down the street! He's just twitchin' along like this!" Jem did his best impression of a mad tog twitching and Jean glanced up to Cal.

"Now, Jem, this ain't some tale you're tellin' me and your mama?" Cal said sharply. "You know mad dogs don't usually appear 'til February," she eyed Jem disbelievingly.

"I swear, Cal, it's a mad dog! Come out and see!" He turned and grabbed Jean's hand to drag her down the hall and out into the street.

Cal and Scout quickly followed and all four stood gazing down the street at the dog in the distance that was jumping and twitching along just as Jem had said. Jean kept eyeing the dog in the distance, so caught up in trying to determine whether it posed harm to her children that she jumped slightly when Cal spoke.

"Miss Jean," she said suddenly. "Miss Jean, get them inside! That's a mad dog if ever I saw one!" She said quickly and turned Scout by the shoulders to push her up the path. Jean was quickly following with Jem in tow and watched as Cal quickly bolted the front door once they were inside. "Miss Jean, call Mr Finch and tell him there's a mad dog comin' down the street! He'll know what to do!" Cal instructed as she continued to peer out through the net curtains covering the door.

Jean wasted no time in going quickly to the phone and calling through to her husband's office. He told her to stay inside with Jem and Scout, he'd get Heck Tate and be there as soon as he could. When she hung up, Cal was going frantic and said she'd ring everyone on the street who had a phone while Jean made sure Jem and Scout stayed inside. They ran from her side to the door and back again, asking what was happening and if they could go outside for just five minutes to see what the dog was doing. Jean downright refused and said that, if it needed be, she'd lock them in their rooms until Atticus appeared.

What seemed like mere minutes later, Atticus and Heck Tate were pulling up outside the house, both men jumping out of the car and taking a look down the street. Making sure Jem and Scout were within reach of Cal should they run, Jean opened the front door and descended the porch to her husband's side.

"Can you take care of it, honey?" She asked, watching nervously as Heck Tate got his gun ready. If there was one thing Jean hated in this world it was guns.

"Heck's gonna shoot him, Jean. That is if he doesn't die before he makes it up the street. It's a wonder that dog is still walkin'," Atticus replied, squinting slightly from behind his glasses to the dog in the distance.

"He's got it alright, Mr Finch," Heck then said, carefully watching the dogs movement should he move suddenly off track.

"Well, Heck, he's within range. You should get a good shot at him from here."

Heck measured the distance again before frowning and turning back to Atticus. "Take him, Mr Finch." He said, half throwing the gun in Atticus' direction.

Jean turned to look at him as though he had gone mad. Atticus had told her years ago that he used to shoot when he was growing up, but had put his gun down seeing as he didn't get the enjoyment from it that other men had. He didn't understand how people got so much pleasure from taking the life of an innocent creature. It had been nearly thirty years since he had lost shot a gun, and Jean could clearly detect the unease in his eyes. In the distance, she heard Jem ask Cal what Heck was doing.

"Heck, don't waste time." Atticus objected before turning to his wife. "Jean, head back on inside."

She didn't want to leave her husband's side, but found herself following his request nonetheless. She didn't fancy being around when that gun went off. As she closed the screen door and stood behind her son, she placed her arms around him as he watched the scene unfolding before him.

"For God's sake, Mr Finch, look where he is!" Heck continued. "I can't shoot that well and you know it!"

"I haven't shot a gun in thirty years."

"Well, I'd feel mighty comfortable if you did now." Heck threw the gun at him again and Jean's eyes widened when she saw Atticus take it.

"Mama! Atticus took the gun! Mama, what's he gonna do!" Jem had turned pale as he turned looking frantically up at her.

"Shhh, baby, it's ok. Your daddy knows what he's doin'," she reassured him, hoping in her heart that she was right.

They watched Atticus walk out onto the street and raise the gun to his shoulder and his glasses to his forehead. Twice they slipped back down over his eyes before he pulled them from his face and let them fall to the ground. Jean saw him take several deep breaths and rub his hands over his face before he aimed once more and quickly pulled the trigger. He hit Tim Johnson with the first bullet and the dog keeled over dead. In front of her Jem was beside himself.

"Mama! Did you see! He just...and the dog just...he didn't even...Mama!" He couldn't get a full thought out as he turned in her arms.

"I saw, baby," she replied, looking to Scout who was standing with her mouth fully agape. "What do you think of your ol' daddy now? Still think he can't do anything?" She teased them, letting go of Jem and opening the screen door again.

As Atticus returned his glasses to his face and Heck's gun to the back of the car, she approached his side and slipped her hand into his. "I think you have two new admirers, my love," she whispered in his ear, discretely nodding to Jem and Scout who stood with Cal looking at their father as if they had never seen him before.

Atticus sighed. "I should have known they'd end up seeing that someday," he shook his head slowly as they approached the front of the car. Being the humble man that he was, he hadn't wanted to take pride in the fact he was the best marksman in the county. He hadn't wanted his children being proud that their daddy could easily take a life if he chose to.

"It must have slipped my mind the other day to tell you that your daddy was the deadest shot in Maycomb in his time," Jean smirked at her children who still stood in a state of shock beside Cal.

Heck laughed as he approached from inspecting the dog. "You mean to tell me that these two didn't know their daddy was the best shot in the county?" He teased and put his hands on Scout's shoulders. "Mrs Finch, I reckon you won't get a word out of 'em for the rest of the day. They've been shocked into silence," he continued laughing.

Jean watched Jem open and close his mouth, wanting to say something but not knowing what words to use. He was still shocked that his daddy could shoot a dog down in one go; any other man would have to aim for five minutes at least before feeling confident enough in their shot. She saw him give up on speech and remain standing gawking at Atticus. There would be a plethora of questions for her husband when Jem finally did regain the ability to speak.

"I think they're mighty impressed with their daddy now, honey." Jean turned to her husband who had also been watching their son, a small smile showing on his face. He said nothing but squeezed her hand and climbed back into Heck's car.

"Let's get back to town, Heck. John Taylor is lookin' to see me in ten minutes." He said as Heck laughed and climbed back in behind the wheel. "Don't go near that dog either of you, do you hear me?" He pointed his finger out at Jem and Scout who nodded mutely in acknowledgement.

They watched as the car drove back into town and only when his father was gone did Jem finally find his voice. "I think I have the best daddy in the whole of Maycomb." He said lowly, as if he was thinking it to himself.

Jean smiled and ruffled his hair. Indeed he did.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean was relieved to see Scout eventually settle into a routine with school. She no longer found her daughter crying about having to go to class, and instead found that Scout sometimes arrived home bubbling with excitement over her lessons. She and Jem often talked over one another in their haste to tell Jean about their days.

"Mama, today Miss Caroline put a problem on the blackboard and I was the first one to..."

"...and then we were talkin' about the Romans and...Mama, are you listening to me..."

"...but Chuck shouted out before I could answer so I..."

"...they used to torture people in the Colosseum, Mama!"

Jean felt that she needed an extra pair of ears to take in all the information they threw at her some afternoons. It made her happy, though, to see her babies so happy, so she never complained. After weeks of having Scout mope around the house it did Jean's heart good to see a smile back on her daughter's face.

However, the closer it got to Christmas the more subdued Scout became once more. Jean noticed her her daughter's after school ramblings came to a sudden halt and she soon knew little about Scout's day. She then refused to go out in the yard with Jem before dinner, choosing instead to curl up in the living room and feign interest in a book. She became less talkative and any questions Jean asked about school or anything else that was going on only got short, one word replies.

Growing increasingly concerned about her daughter, Jean decided to corner her one Saturday afternoon while Jem was busy in his room and Atticus was locked away in his study. She found Scout in the living room again trying to pretend she was absorbed in a book. When Jean sat beside her on the sofa, her eyes flickered up momentarily but quickly returned to her book.

"Hey," Jean said pleasantly. "What are you readin'?"

"Robinson Cruesoe," she replied simply.

"You must have that book nearly worn out," Jean teased her. "Don't I hear you and your daddy reading from it every night? It'll be fallin' apart in your hands soon!" She tried to get a smile from her daughter but she remained quiet beside her.

Jean sat silently watching her as she continued turning the pages too fast to actually be reading it. The last time she had been like this was when Atticus had told her she couldn't be taught at home and would have to go to school. Jean didn't think that issue was causing bother again so it had to be something else.

"Baby, why don't you tell me what's botherin' you, hmm?" She brought herself closer to Scout and gently took the book from her hands, causing her to give her her full attention. "You never know, it might be something your mama can have fixed in a heartbeat."

Scout sat playing with her fingers and refusing to look at her mother. "Mama, do we have to go and see Aunt Alexandra at Christmas? Why can't we go and see grandma in Montgomery?" She asked.

"Honey, you know we go to the Landing every year for Christmas, we have every year since your daddy and I got married. Why don't you wanna go this year?" Jean reclined back against the sofa and pulled Scout into her side.

"Aunty doesn't like me," Scout replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jean sighed. She should have known Alexandra was the reason Scout was behaving so oddly. She and Scout had always had a distant relationship owing to the fact that Alexandra was constantly criticising every aspect of Scout and her personality. The previous Christmas, Scout had spent most of the day in Jean's lap, cut deeply by the fact that Alexandra had had the gall to state that she would be the ruination of the family when she was older. Jean had fought to keep a civil tongue in her head, Alexandra was Atticus' sister after all, but given the chance she would gladly throttle her. Alexandra always was one for sticking her nose in where it wasn't wanted.

Jean held her daughter tighter to her. "Baby, you pay no attention to what she says to you. Like your daddy already told you, you're our Scout and we wouldn't change one thing about you."

"She never says anything to Jem," Scout pointed out and Jean could only agree with her. Alexandra's attacks seemed to mostly be on Scout with Jem getting away with merely being told to keep his school marks up or he'd never be like his daddy. To Jem, Alexandra's remarks were like water off a duck's back.

"I don't know why that is," Jean replied. "But you're _my_ daughter and I love you just the way you are, alright? You come to me if Alexandra says anything that upsets you and we'll find something to do far away from her." She kissed Scout's head and felt her relax a little in her arms, an assurance that she was feeling a little better about another Christmas spent with Alexandra.

"You always know what to say, Mama." Scout replied through a yawn. "Maybe you should say something to Aunty to get her to shut up."

oOo

As with every year at Christmas time, Jack Finch arrived in at Maycomb Junction on the Saturday right before Christmas Day. The children loved him and he was a sure way of keeping Scout's mind off the next week that would see her again in the company of her aunt. Jack was like a second father to Jem and Scout, always making time to read to them and play with them while he was in Maycomb. Atticus often joked that, if he lived nearby, he and Jean would never see their children. Jack just seemed to have a way with them and was second only to Atticus at calming their minds whenever something was troubling them. Jean couldn't help but notice what a pleasant contrast he was to his sister; Alexandra seemed to go out of her way to make sure Jem and Scout _were_ troubled about something.

When they arrived at the Landing on Christmas Day, Scout clung to Jean's hand from the moment they all got out of the car. Jack did his best to try and get her to laugh, arguing that it was Christmas and kids were supposed to be happy at Christmas, but she only smiled weakly and continued to clutch at Jean's hand. Atticus even tried to cheer her up by lifting her in his arms and tickling her sides, but it only resulted in pleas from Scout to be put back down where she turned back to Jean. Jem looked at his mother to get an explanation for Scout's very out of character behaviour, but she merely shook her head at him to indicate that he should leave her well alone.

Alexandra was waiting to greet them on the front porch when they arrived, giving Scout a disdainful look which nearly had Jean going for her throat. She pulled her daughter closer to her side as she acted as though she were delighted to see Alexandra again, and kept her close to her as they moved into the dining room. Alexandra tried to isolate Scout further by insisting she sit at the children's table off the dining table, but Jean insisted she sat beside her, concocting some tale of how Scout was feeling a little under the weather so it would be best if she were beside her mother. Atticus raised his eyebrows at her but otherwise said nothing. He wasn't one to argue with anyone outside the courtroom, even if it was his own family.

Dinner passed without any major incident, save Alexandra telling Jean she really must do something with Scout's hair, and soon they were all retiring to the parlour to let the food digest. As Jean had expected, Alexandra tore into Atticus the moment they had all settled down, accusing him of having no family pride by accepting to defend Tom Robinson.

"The fine name our ancestors worked tirelessly to keep pristine and respected in the community and you're going to ruin it," she had said venomously.

"Sister, it can hardly be considered a fine name when said ancestors were most likely responsible for the slaughter of hundreds of innocent people," Atticus had shot back and Alexandra had pursed her lips.

Despite the comebacks Atticus always had for her, she kept mercilessly badgering him to speak to John Taylor and have him appoint someone else to take the case. Atticus said he had no intention of doing such a thing.

The whole conversation, Jean kept her hand snugly within her husband's, squeezing it every so often when she could feel him tense over something Alexandra had said. Jack sat in the far corner offering the occasional input but otherwise swirling brandy in his glass and shaking his head at his sister. Jean knew she would have to stop talking at some point, there was only so much she could say to Atticus, but when she turned the conversation to Jem and Scout, Jean sat up a little straighter in her seat.

"Not only you in the courthouse disgracin' the family, but those two children of yours running around in public disgracin' us even more," she turned her nose up at the both of them.

"I beg your pardon!?" Jean spoke up before Atticus had the chance to, this time it was his turn to give her hand a squeeze. He'd known her long enough to pick up that Alexandra had struck a nerve. No one said anything about her babies.

"Oh, don't act innocent, Jean. The way you let that daughter of yours run about in overalls is shameful. She should be in dresses and..."

"She's wearing a dress today, isn't she?" Jean interjected hotly.

Alexandra quirked an eyebrow. "A rare sight I must say," she sniffed. "I have it on good authority from Stephanie Crawford that you let her run about in overalls and carry on with the boys. It's downright shameful," she said again.

"She's six years old!" Jean was nearly shouting now, causing Atticus to squeeze her hand even tighter. "For God's sake, let her be a child! She'll have plenty of time for that ludicrous carry on you deem to be so vitally important when she's older!"

Alexandra refused to back down. "Jean Louise should be wearing dresses and learning to be the lady that society will expect her to be." she paused. "If I were her mother..."

"Well _I'm_ her mother and I say she's fine just the way she is. Atticus and I are raising them, not you, so kindly keep your opinions on my children to yourself!" Jean had finally reached the end of her tether and was on her feet. Seeing the impact Alexandra had on Scout had made her finally put her foot down and tell Alexandra what she'd wanted to tell her for years: Jem and Scout were none of her business.

"Jean, honey, sit down." Atticus murmured, rubbing his thumb over her hand which was still in his.

"I'm goin' for a walk. And to check and see that our disgraces aren't doin' anything that might tarnish the "fine Finch name"." She threw a scathing look at Alexandra and left the parlour. She leaned against the parlour wall and took several deep breaths to compose herself. She'd never gotten that angry at...well anyone before. Alexandra always did have a way of pushing her buttons whether she knew she was doing it or not.

"No, sister, you had that comin'," she heard Atticus say through the closed door, making her smile triumphantly as she pictured the furious look on Alexandra's face.

"Way to go, Mama!" She jumped at hearing Jem's hushed voice from the living room across the hall. She tried to give him a disapproving look for eavesdropping but found she could only smile at him. Beside him, Scout was grinning from ear to ear and eagerly ran to hug her mother.

"I don't think your aunt will be givin' you all anymore hassle," she said as she stroked Scout's hair, "and if she does, she's just gonna have me to deal with. I'm done letting her talk nonsense about my babies. C'mere, you." She held her arm out for Jem to join his sister and hug her.

Unseen by them all, Atticus stood in the parlour doorway, a little smile flickering across his face.

oOo

They had left the Landing not long after that, with Jean sitting in the back seat of the car enthusiastically listening to Jem and Scout recount what they had been up to. She also found that during the entire drive home, she had told them both at least three times that she and Atticus loved them no matter what, no matter what they wore, who they associated with or what they chose to do with their time. They were their babies and nothing they could ever do would make them love them any less.

She had caught Atticus occasionally flick his eyes to the rearview mirror as he sat in the front with Jack. He hadn't said anything about her argument with Alexandra, and she was picking up the vibe that he wasn't best pleased with the way she had conducted herself. Despite that, she made a silent vow to herself that she wouldn't be apologising to Alexandra no matter what he said to her. Like Atticus had said she had had that coming.

It was late when they finally arrived back in Maycomb. So late that Scout had fallen asleep in the back seat against Jean's shoulder and had to be carried in by her father. Jem was also shuffling tiredly on his feet as they climbed the porch. Jean wasted no time in kissing him good night and sending him through to bed, he was so tired he didn't even object, and very quickly it was just her and Jack.

"She really did have that comin', you know," Jack said, his hands in his pockets as he watched Jem close his bedroom door.

"I shouldn't have said all that. Lord knows what Atticus thinks of me now." She ran her hands tiredly over her face.

Jack laughed beside her. "Honey, if I know my brother like I think I do, you merely said what he's been too polite to say for years. If you ask me it's about time someone told Alexandra when her opinions aren't welcome. She's gotten too used to believing her word is law. Some harsh words might work better on her than you think." He responded.

"I hope you're right, Jack,"Jean replied simply.

"I'm always right." He joked with her and crossed to kiss her cordially on the cheek. "Good night, Jean."

"Good night." She watched him until the door to the guest bedroom softly closed.

Seeing as it was too cold to sit out on the front porch, she took herself through to the living room and curled up in Atticus' armchair. She was sure he would have something to say to her but she ardently hoped it wouldn't cause a rift between them; she hated when they fought. He might have told his sister that she'd had it coming to her, but Jean could nearly say for certain he'd berate her for not doing so in a more eloquent manner. Atticus Finch was all about politeness.

As the sound of his footsteps came down the hall, she found herself curling more into the armchair, feeling like a child about to be scolded. When he stopped in front of her she looked up, daring him to say something, but found her husband looking down at her shaking his head with an amused smile. He reached for her hand, pulled her up from the chair, sat himself down and pulled her onto his knee. Neither of them said anything as Atticus sat idly running his fingers up and down her arm.

"I'm sorry," she finally muttered when it became clear that Atticus wasn't going to speak.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" He replied.

"For the way I spoke to Alexandra. She's your sister, honey, I shouldn't have said what I did."

Atticus chuckled softly. "Usually, I would agree with you, but I reckon she's had that coming for a while. I never did like the way she spoke about Jem and Scout."

Feeling relieved, she then completely unburdened herself. "It made me so mad that she has such horrible things to say about them, Scout in particular. Did you know that our daughter wanted to spend this Christmas in Montgomery with Mama because she was so afraid of what Alexandra would say to her? It speaks volumes when her own niece was dreading spending a few hours with her." She told him, moving her head to get a better look at him.

His brow furrowed. "I didn't. I think I may have to inform Alexandra of that. She needs to think about what she's doing before she does some damage that's irreversible. Scout's the closest thing to a daughter she's going to have and I think she sometimes forgets that she isn't actually her mother."

That caused Jean to think. She, as well as everyone else, knew that Alexandra's marriage to Jimmy Hancock was more for convenience than love. From what Atticus told her of their whole courtship, she didn't think Alexandra had ever loved her husband. They had one child named Henry who barely ever spent time with his mother which almost made Jean feel sorry for her. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to live in an isolated part of the county, in a loveless marriage and never seeing the one good thing that that marriage had produced. If Jem or Scout grew up and chose to never spend time with her, her heart would be shattered. If the little babies that she had carried and loved and watched grow suddenly decided that they wanted nothing more to do with her, she supposed she would turn rather cold too. She still didn't agree with Alexandra's opinions on her children and how they were being brought up, but suddenly, she almost felt bad for the woman. What must it be like to have your own child turn away from you?

"I suppose I may have been a little harsh on her." She slowly admitted, resting her head on her husband's chest. "Atticus, I'm not apologising to her. I meant what I said about them being none of her business. I want her to treat them better."

"Honey, I'm not askin' you to apologise. I stand by what I said, she needed to hear those things," Atticus squeezed her. "Just maybe go a little easier on her in the future. I don't like how she acts to them anymore than you do, but just try and put yourself in her shoes for a moment," he paused for a beat. "Jean, no matter what she says to you, you're a wonderful mother. Our children are lucky to have you." He kissed her head.

She smiled into his chest and moved her arm better around his waist. How was it that Atticus always knew what to say?

"I just fear for the poor soul that ever does Jem and Scout wrong," he then teased her. "I don't know if anyonel could survive the wrath of Jean Finch."

"Oh, you hush, you devil."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Ok so I know I said I was going to try and add more chapters to this, but I start university REALLY soon (!) and I want to get this wrapped up before I start. I'm still _hoping_ to change some things in this towards the end, but for now there's probably going to be big jumps in time. Also, there's an overly sappy bit in this but I love writing Jem's reactions to Atticus and Jean's relationship so..uh...yeah!

* * *

After Christmas life returned to its familiar everyday routine for Jean. Jem and Scout returned to school, and Atticus travelled to Montgomery for a meeting of the Legislature. Maycomb had quieted down considerably about Tom Robinson's upcoming trial, and Jean was thankful for the temporary respite that brought to her home. Everything was settled and calm and just how she liked things to be.

Until her son stormed into the kitchen with a face like thunder one afternoon in late January.

Jem was like a bull in a china shop, flinging his school things onto the kitchen table and promptly sitting down behind them. With his face buried in his arms Jem muttered angrily to himself under his breath. Jean quickly threw a warning glance towards her daughter. Scout had been sitting eating bread sprinkled with sugar, her hand halfway to her mouth as she prepared to say something to Jem.

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine this afternoon." Jean said lightly, placing a plate of bread and sugar in front of him. "What's gotten you so riled up, mister?"

"Nothin," Jem mumbled, his eyes peeking up ever so slightly to see what his mother had placed on the table.

"You could have had me fooled," Jean replied."Baby, I'm your mama. I know you better than you know yourself, so I know when somethin's bothering you. Why don't you tell me what it is? Is it school?" She rested her hands on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze.

Jem lifted his head from the table and rested his chin on his folded arms, his serious little face appearing deep in thought. Jean let him think for a minute knowing he was just like his daddy, always taking time to think over everything before he spoke. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing heavily and repositioning his chin on his arms.

"It's Mrs Dubose," he said finally.

Jean was so quick to laugh she couldn't stop herself. "Mrs Dubose? Baby, what on earth could Mrs Dubose be doing to you? The poor thing is stuck on her porch in her wheelchair." She squeezed his shoulders once again.

Jem looked absolutely offended. "It's not what she's doing, Mama, it's what she's _sayin_ '!" He replied, turning his head up to look at her. Being his mother for eleven years had taught her a lot of things about her son, but mostly it had taught her how to tell from just a single look when something was really bothering him. His distressed look towards her at that moment signalled that this was one thing that _was_ really bothering him.

"What's she sayin' to you?" She moved from behind Jem to pull a chair up between both of her children, Scout happily offering her a piece of bread and sugar which she declined.

Jem sighed again and reached for his own bread, angrily ripping it to shreds and causing sugar to fall all over the table. "She's always sayin' that me and Scout don't act proper and that we're the disgrace of Maycomb and that Scout is gonna end up workin' in the O.K Cafe if she doesn't start wearing dresses and bein' a lady. She's worse than Aunty." He finished, glancing up at Jean to gauge her reaction.

"She says I'm ugly, too, Mama," Scout chimed in, trying to sound nonchalant but failing; Jean could hear the hurt in her voice.

"And she says that Atticus is an old, ugly, near-sighted thing and we shouldn't be proud of him," Jem added quietly. From his tone of voice, it sounded as though he was more upset about what Mrs Dubose had been saying about Atticus than what she had about him and Scout. Jem was fiercely loyal to Atticus and became indignant when anyone spoke badly of him.

Jean glanced from him to Scout and back again and found they were waiting for her to weigh in on the situation. "Do you both remember what I said to you comin' back from the Landing at Christmas?" She asked.

"Yes'm," they both answered together.

"About how I didn't want you to listen to anyone who tries to tell you how you should be living and acting?"

"Yes'm."

"Well, that includes Mrs Dubose," Jean stated firmly. "Now, I can't go out there and stand up for you owing to the fact that the neighbours wouldn't take too kindly to me giving hell to a sick old lady, but I want you both to just say "yes ma'am" to whatever she says to you. Even if she's saying the nastiest things in her mind to you, you both just walk on by and say "yes, Mrs Dubose." Don't give her the satisfaction of knowing she's riled you up. Anyway, I reckon she's so sick she doesn't know what she's sayin' half the time," she advised them and they both nodded mutely. She knew that wasn't what they had wanted her to say. They had wanted her to go and fight for them like she had with Alexandra, but Mrs Dubose was different. You had to pick your fights.

They both went exceedingly quiet, Jem continuing to rip at his bread and Scout reaching out to play with Jean's rings which she only did when she was annoyed about something. Jean didn't think she had comforted them at all.

"I want you both to listen to me. Neither of you are disgraces, do you hear?" She glanced quickly at both of them. "Me and your daddy are _so_ proud of the people you're growin' up to become and we wouldn't change anything about either of you for the world. Whatever you both decide to do with yourselves, me and your daddy will support you all the way. Don't let people like your aunt or Mrs Dubose tell you any different." She reached and squeezed both their hands. "And as for bein' ugly," she turned to Scout, "you look like me, so you can't possibly be ugly," she teased her which caused her to smile. "I love both of you so much and there ain't anything that can change that."

"Will you still love me if I'm workin' at the O.K Cafe, Mama?" Scout asked.

Jean laughed at her daughter. "Baby, I'll still love you if you're chopping lumber in Link Deas' yard."

oOo

Jean was pleased to see that Jem and Scout took her advice on board. Her children began arriving home filled with pride that they had ignored all the remarks Mrs Dubose threw their way, though Scout always added how she'd like to throw her twirling baton at her. Jean was proud of them. She was proud of their maturity in being able to ignore the woman's vicious comments, and hoped it would make it easier for them both to ignore the remarks about Atticus defending Tom Robinson that would no doubt come. Those would be a whole new ball game entirely.

On the Saturday following Jem's birthday, he and Scout both decided to go into town to spend the money she and Atticus had given him. Scout also decided to bring along her twirling baton to practice with as they walked. Atticus told him to buy something for himself but to make sure Scout didn't come home empty handed, even if all he bought her was an ice cream. They had both left the house chattering away happily to each other and Jean had been sure that everything would be fine.

They were gone no more than half an hour when she heard the screen door clatter open and both of them falling through it. Jem immediately took himself down the hall to his room while Scout remained and made a strong attempt to hide the fact that she was crying from her parents.

"Scout?" Jean called from the living room where she and Atticus had been discussing Tom's trial. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Nothin, Mama," she sniffed back and quickly followed Jem's path in going to her room.

Jean winced slightly at the sound of her bedroom door banging closed and glanced to her husband who looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It looks like Jem was a little scrupulous with his money," he offered. "I'll go into town and pick her up something." He said and pulled himself from his chair.

"It's not like Jem," Jean shook her head. "He usually always makes sure she doesn't go without."

"It looks like today he did." Atticus frowned, getting himself ready to head out. "I won't be long. Make sure they don't murder each other in there," he gave her a small smile and nodded towards their bedroom doors.

Once he stepped out Jean went through to the kitchen to begin preparing supper. Usually, she would have the radio playing and would even sing along much to the embarrassment of Jem and Scout, but this evening she was constantly stopping in her preparations every few seconds to see if her children made any noise. They were being uncharacteristically silent.

She had to wonder what had gotten both of them into such states. The last time she had seen Jem so angry and Scout in a fit of tears was when Alexandra had accused them of tying her grandson, Francis, to a tree down by the river at the Landing. She had viciously went at them saying that Francis could have drowned or could have been left out in the cold overnight and developed pneumonia, completely disregarding the fact that Jem and Scout had been with Jean in the back kitchen helping her clear up their dinner dishes. She had went at them so viciously that Jem had stormed off outside and Scout had dissolved into tears to her mother. This evening, it was almost as if the entire event was being replayed.

Atticus returned not long after he had left, coming through to his wife in the kitchen with Scout's broken twirling baton in his hand.

"Honey, I think you're a little old to be joining the marching band," she teased him, but stopped smiling when he began to wearily rub at his forehead. "What's the matter?"

"I found this in Mrs Dubose's yard." He held up the baton. "It was lying in the middle of her camellias which are covering her garden at present."

Jean looked at briefly trying to make sense of what he was implying before she sighed. "Scout," she said, shaking her head and glancing towards her daughter's bedroom door.

Atticus nodded. "You've said yourself plenty of times that she's a firecracker. It was only a matter of time before someone said something that made her snap. I'm willing to bet Mrs Dubose made one remark too many and Scout just lost her head." He said and placed the baton on the kitchen island.

"I _told_ them to just ignore her. I told them to just walk on no matter what she says to them. I don't think they understand that she's not in her right mind. Honey, I don't think she knows what she's sayin' to 'em half the time," Jean said.

"Maybe," Atticus replied heavily. "I'll go talk to her. Try and see what on earth came over her to go so wild." He moved tiredly towards Scout's bedroom door. As she watched him go Jean couldn't help but feel sorry for him. With everything else he had going on in regards to Tom Robinson's case, his children acting up was the last thing he needed.

A few moments later, Jem's bedroom door slowly creaked open and he poked his head around the doorframe. "Mama? Mama, what's Atticus talkin' to Scout about? She sounds real upset." He made his way into the kitchen, his face going white at seeing the baton sitting there.

"He's talkin' to her about Mrs Dubose's camellias. Your daddy found her baton sitting among the mess of them."

Jem looked over his shoulder back at Scout's room and swallowed hard. "Mama, Scout didn't do that. I did," he told her and avoided her eyes.

Jean sat a pile of plates down on the island and turned to her son, crossing her arms over her chest in disapproval. "Jem, why? After the conversation we had about just ignoring what she said to you. Why would you do that?"

"She was sayin' things again," he mumbled.

Jean said nothing as she moved around him to the kitchen doorway. "Atticus!" She called out to her husband. Momentarily, he stuck his head out through Scout's bedroom door and regarded her. "It wasn't Scout."

Coming back through to the kitchen, he looked disapprovingly at his son. "Jem, are you responsible for the state of Mrs Dubose's yard?" He asked.

"Yes, sir," Jem mumbled back. "She was sayin' awful things about you defending Tom Robinson and that Mama was no better for letting you. She said that..."

Atticus interrupted him. "I don't care what she said, Jem. Your mama and I never thought you'd the be the one to lose your head over something like this. To do that to a sick old lady is inexcusable. I want you to go down to Mrs Dubose now and apologise," he instructed him.

Jem stood where he was and looked back and forth between his mother and father, not believing that Atticus could actually want him to go to that house alone.

"Jem, you heard what your daddy said. Go and apologise," Jean encouraged him gently.

He gave one last despairing look between his parents but didn't put up anymore of a fight and grudgingly left the house. Atticus sighed heavily as he watched him go and took himself through to the living room with Scout on his heels. She heard Scout begin to speak and accuse Atticus of not caring about what happened to Jem but ultimately decided to stay where she was in the kitchen; this was definitely one for Atticus.

A little later that evening, Jem appeared back in the house and seemed to come through the door in a bit of a daze. He seemed to drift slightly down the hallway and into the living room where his family were waiting for him, Jean having left supper cooking in the kitchen to hear what Mrs Dubose had to say to him. For a few moments, he said nothing. His head went back and forth between Jean and Atticus as he seemed to be struggling to understand something. Clearly his talk with Mrs Dubose hadn't gone as he thought it would have.

"I said sorry to her but I ain't," he said after a while. "She wants me to read to her," he then told them both after stopping for a beat. Atticus seemed to be unsurprised by her request. "She wants me to come for two hours after school and on Saturdays. Atticus, do I have to?"

"Certainly."

"She wants me to do it for a month."

"Then you'll do it for a month, Jem."

Jem scoffed and look at his father in disbelief. "Mama, say something?" He then turned to Jean.

"No, Jem, you have to do it. You ruined somethin' which probably brought her a little happiness in her sick state, and if this is how she wants you to make up for it, then you'll do it," Jean echoed her husband's remarks. "You can take Scout with you for company."

"Oh, hell no!" Scout piped up from Atticus' knee.

"Scout, what have I told you about using language like that?" Jean turned to her daughter. "And yes, you will go with your brother. I think this will be good for both of you. What do you think, honey?" She then asked Atticus.

"I can't see why not. Maybe it'll teach the both of you some lessons," he agreed and looked firmly at Scout.

Both of their children looked as though they had just been sentenced to ten years hard labour and looked in disbelief at each other. Jean knew Atticus' motives for insisting they read to Mrs Dubose, he had told her a little while ago about her dependency on morphine, and she wholeheartedly agreed that sending the children to read to her may be crucial in helping her wean herself from the drug. While they may not see it now, she knew there would come a time where they would understand Atticus' reasons for making them do it.

"I'm gonna go lie down before supper," Jem mumbled and trudged from the room. "Though it'll take a lot more than lyin' down to make me feel better about havin' to read to that old bat," he muttered under his breath as he passed.

oOo

As a reward for the first reading session with Mrs Dubose, Atticus had bought a new football magazine for Jem and two yellow pencils for Scout. It turned out that, with the promise of their father buying them little things now and again for the time they spent with her, Jem complained less and less about having to go to her house. The first few days had seem him storming home and demanding that Jean talk to Atticus and make it so that they didn't have to spend their evenings with her. Jean had not strayed from her stance that it would be beneficial to them and Jem hadn't spoken to her for a week.

Scout said little about having to accompany her brother, only telling Jean of the alarm clock that always went off and scared the living daylights out of them, but otherwise her comments were sparse. She didn't like accompanying her brother, but she did it because Atticus had said so.

A month after Jem had started reading to Mrs Dubose, Atticus arrived home with the newest edition of a football magazine for him, a new twirling baton for Scout and, surprisingly, something for Jean also.

"Caramel creams," she smiled at looking into the small brown bag he had thrown in her direction. "Well, doesn't this just bring me back to the days we spent in your office in Montgomery." She said as he sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Jem's head immediately perked up. "I didn't know you had an office in Montgomery, Atticus?" He seemed confused.

"My legislative office, son" Atticus explained.

"Did you meet Atticus there, Mama?" Scout asked, fighting the urge to throw her twirling baton in the air. Atticus had bought her one with streamers on the edges and she was itching to watch them flutter.

"I did, baby. I was your daddy's right hand woman. He never made any important decisions about anything in the legislature without running it by me first." Jean winked at her husband.

Atticus smiled. "Don't listen to your mama, baby, she's just tryin' to be funny. Your mama was a secretary who had a very bad habit of sneaking into my office while I was out and stealing my caramel creams. She must owe me about five bags of them still." He gave her a playful nudge. "Your mama's no angel."

"I did no such thing," Jean countered. "If you remember, Mr Finch, you would bribe me with 'em to stay in your office because you found me much more interesting than all that dull stuff that you were doing at the legislature," she teased him. "You said so yourself so don't try and argue." She raised a finger to him as he opened his mouth to retort.

Scout sat giggling in the rocker as she watched them. "Do you love Atticus, Mama?" She asked, smirking at her mother.

"Of course I do." Jean told her and turned her head somewhat to smile at him.

"Do you love Mama, Atticus?" She then asked, still smirking.

"More than anything." He leaned in and kissed her.

When they broke apart, Jean turned her attention to her son who hadn't spoken in while. "You're very quiet down there, mister. Cat got your tongue?" She asked, fighting the urge to laugh when he looked up with a look of plain disgust on his face.

"You two are so _embarrassin'_." He muttered, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his magazine.

Atticus rolled his eyes at his son and leaned in to kiss Jean's temple just as the shrill ringing of the phone filled the house. Sighing, he pulled himself from beside his wife, gave Jem a playful swat on the head, and headed down the hall. Jean tried to listen from the living room to determine just who would be calling at such an hour, but found she could hear her husband's low replies agreeing to go somewhere right away. She heard him return the receiver to the prongs and come back down the hall with a somber expression on his face, his light-hearted mood of moments ago was long gone.

"I have to step out for just a little while," he stared at his wife trying to silently convey something. She understood and merely nodded her head. "It'll probably be past your bedtimes when I get back, so I'll see you two in the morning." He crossed to kiss Scout's cheek and ruffle Jem's hair before stepping out of the house.

He stayed gone for at least an hour, but Jem and Scout badgered Jean to let them stay up until he returned. After much pleading from both of them, she finally relented but said that, if Atticus wasn't home by nine o'clock, they were both going to bed whether they wanted to or not. When Atticus finally _did_ return, Jem was sprawled out on the floor with another magazine while Scout had clambered into Jean's lap and was fast asleep.

"Where did you go, Atticus?" Jem asked, standing from his place on the floor.

"To see Mrs Dubose."

"How is she?"

"She's dead."

Jem's mouth fell open slightly as he regarded his father. He seemed unable to believe that the woman who had tormented him from her place on the porch was now no more. He looked back at his mother who gave him a small smile.

"Don't feel bad, son, it's better for her. She's not suffering anymore," Atticus sensed his discomfort. "Your punishment served a larger purpose than any of us intended." He sat down on the rocker Scout had discarded as he spoke. "Mrs Dubose took morphine as a painkiller for years for her arthritis. She'd have spent the rest of her life on it and died without suffering but she was too contrary," he paused. "She told me she wanted to leave this world beholden to nothing and nobody and wanted to break herself of it before she died, and that's what she did while you were reading to her."

"Yessir," Jem replied bleakly.

"I'm glad you got to see what real courage is, son." He stood from the rocker, ruffled Jem's hair and took Scout from Jean's arms to put her to bed.

"Baby, come here," Jean called as Jem watched them go.

He took himself across the room and curled up by her side, letting his head come to rest on her shoulder. Jean placed her arm around him and squeezed him as tightly as she could. "I'm real proud of you, honey," she told him.

"Why?"

"Why? Because you helped a sick old lady break her addiction before she died. That's not an easy thing to do and you played a part in it." Jean kissed his head. "Even though she was the most cantankerous old lady on the street, you still did it with no complaint. Well, without much complaint." She teased and squeezed him again.

"You're awful, Mama," Jem replied sleepily, though she could feel him smiling.

She laughed in response to that. "You better get yourself to bed before I make you go read to Stephanie Crawford next," she joked with him and watched as he sat up and rolled his eyes.

"You might be awful, Mama, but you're not a monster," he said which caused her to laugh outright. "Good night."

"Good night, baby."


	8. Chapter 8

Thursday had quickly become Jean's least favourite day of the week. Before Atticus had been appointed to defend Tom Robinson, she had loved having the ladies of the neighbourhood over for tea. Now, though, she loathed the thought of having them in her house like a pack of vultures pecking for any morsel of information they could. Jean felt a quiet rage towards them each time they crossed her doorstep. Stephanie Crawford's insisting of "but Jean your cakes are just the best on the street!" hadn't fooled her for a second; she knew the sole reason so many of these teas were now taking place in her house was because Maycomb's vultures wanted to know every little detail about Tom's upcoming case.

She had served them as usual that Thursday, her best company smile stretched on her face as she expertly dodged and redirected any subtle questions about Tom's trial. Once Stephanie, who seemed to be the ringleader of the ladies, had been downright ignored by Jean for what seemed like the hundredth time, she changed to a different topic of conversation that only made Jean's blood boil more.

"They live like savages not far from the town dump the whole family," Stephanie was saying in a hushed voice, almost as if even discussing Tom's family was taboo. "I heard his wife used to work in a brothel in New Orleans!"

Across from Jean, Mabel Rockbine gave a haughty sniff. "Well, that wouldn't surprise me! You know the nasty things their type get up to."

"Helen Robinson is a perfect lady! How dare you say things like that about her!" Jean spoke up before she could stop herself. Her grip on the heavy silver coffee pitcher she had been pouring from tightened until her knuckles were white. Maudie, who she had been serving, discreetly reached up and placed a hand on her wrist.

"Really, Jean, just because Atticus is defending Tom doesn't mean you have to defend his family. We all know what they're like!" Stephanie replied in an almost singsong voice.

"Y'all don't know a damn thing!" Jean practically spat at her, feeling the urge to throw the coffee pitcher right at Stephanie's head. "Tom and his family are fine folks. Decent, hardworking, all round lovely people. Somethin' you'd all know if you took the chance to get to know 'em."

Jean saw Stephanie roll her eyes. "You can certainly take the girl out of Montgomery..." she left the sentence unfinished.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jean replied, hotly.

"Oh, honey, everyone knows your crowd up there are more liberal in their thinking, always cryin' out for this and that to be changed. If you ask me things are just fine the way they are."

Jean was at a loss for words that Stephanie considered her views to be "liberal thinking' rather than simply being a decent human being. She didn't understand how one person could be so close minded.

"If y'all will excuse me for a second, the coffee pitcher needs a refill." Jean made her excuse, glad to leave the room and the tension that was mounting. She had promised herself she wouldn't lose her temper where the ladies were concerned, but they were just so damn wrong!

Coming through the sliding door to the kitchen, she set down the coffee pitcher on the kitchen island with a little more force than usual, causing Cal to quickly turn around.

"I swear to the Lord, Cal, those biddies are gonna be the death of me!" Jean said wearily, wanting nothing more than to throw the lot of them out of the house.

"What are they sayin' today, Miss Jean?" Cal asked, turning back to taking a tray of cakes out of the oven. By now she was used to Jean seeking refuge in the kitchen when the ladies were over.

"They're sayin' downright cruel things about Helen Robinson, sayin' she worked in a brothel and all sorts of things! I don't know what joy Stephanie gets from spreading such awful rumours about people." Jean told her.

Cal gave a quiet "tut" of disapproval and set the tray down on the island next to Jean. "Miss Jean, maybe it isn't my place to say, but you're ten times the woman Miss Stephanie is. She's just a lonely ol' woman with nothin' better to do with her time. Don't let 'em get your goat, honey."

Jean felt her shoulders relax. "You're nearly as good as Atticus when it comes to calming me down, Cal," she joked.

Cal gave her a smile. "Helen would be mighty touched by how you're defending her, Miss Jean. I always let her know she's got a real friend in you." She handed Jean the plate she had just finished putting together. "Now, get back in that dining room before you give 'em somethin' else to gossip about."

oOo

As it turned out, Jean's outburst at an afternoon tea was the last thing Maycomb felt like gossiping about. As Tom Robinson's trial got closer the people of Maycomb began to stir and spread all sorts of falsehoods about the man. Jean could barely walk through the town without hearing whispers about Tom's character or his family or the crime he was being accused of. It made her sick to hear how excited people were about attending his upcoming trial, so eager to see an innocent black man sentenced to the chair. She began to feel ashamed of the little town.

Helen Robinson was also beginning to get increasingly anxious as the weeks progressed. During her now regular visits to Helen's house Jean found that the woman was constantly on edge. She was always finding something that needed to be moved or cleaned within the small space of her home, and was prone to jumping at every small noise that came from outside. It broke Jean's heart to see how near breaking point she was, and how much her heart ached for her husband.

"Tom's trial starts real soon, Mrs Finch," she said the minute Jean appeared in the doorway one morning with another casserole. She took the pot from Jean's hands, set it with a bang on her kitchen countertop and gestured for Jean to sit with her at the table. For perhaps the first time, Jean truly noticed how completely done in Helen looked.

"Atticus was sayin' the same the other night," Jean replied quietly. "He was sayin' that Tom is gonna be moved back to Maycomb jail this afternoon."

Helen nodded slowly. "They won't even let me see him!" She finally broke and covered her face with her hands. "I ain't seen my husband in nearly a year and when he's moved back home they still won't let me! He's about to go on trial for his life, the only thing I want to do is hold him and tell him everything's gonna be alright!"

Jean moved herself closer to Helen and put one arm around her shoulders. She didn't really know what to do seeing as Helen had always stayed collected each time she visited. "I know it's anything but fair, honey, and Lord knows I can't even _begin_ to imagine what you're goin' through, but Atticus is gonna keep trying to get you in to see Tom. Even if it's just for fifteen minutes before the trial starts, he's gonna keep trying," she tried to console her.

Atticus was working tirelessly on Tom's trial and trying to get Helen in to see her husband. The entire time Tom had been held in Abbotsville, Atticus had been unsuccessful in getting visitation rights for Helen and her children. He was hoping that, now that Tom had been moved back to Maycomb, the chances of Helen even getting a few minutes with her husband would be possible.

"It ain't gonna do any good, Mrs Finch. Mr Finch could argue all day and all night and they still ain't gonna let me see him. You'd think it would be some small consolation that he's just gonna be in the town but it ain't. It's so hard havin' him away for so long. All I hear all day everyday from the children is when is daddy gonna be home." Helen wiped the tears from her face.

"What have you told them? Do they know where Tom is?" Jean found herself asking. She'd no idea how Helen had explained Tom's absence to their children.

"No," Helen shook her head. "I went and told them that Mr Link Deas had some work for him in Georgia so that's where he's been. They been hearing things around town but I always just tell 'em it's a pack of lies and that daddy is workin' away in Georgia and makin' more money for us. I think Lucy and Rachel believe me, but Tom junior asks a lotta questions, Mrs Finch. Some days I end up gettin' short with him and tellin' him that his daddy is in Georgia and that's that. It makes him quiet but I think he knows right well where his daddy is. He was always his daddy's little man and he's just lost without him," she glanced quickly towards the window to where her children were playing outside with Jem and Scout.

"I think it's probably best that they don't know," Jean said quietly. "You've got enough to deal with here without three children being upset that their daddy is in jail. Tom'll explain it all to them once he gets back." She reached out and took Helen's hand in hers. The first time she had done it as a means of offering comfort, Helen had quickly pulled her hand free and looked at Jean as thought she thought she was going to kill her. As she had grown used to Jean's company and found she wanted to do nothin but help, her hand began to stay where it was.

"It kills me, Mrs Finch. It really kills me," she said slowly and Jean could feel her give her fingers a small squeeze.

In the silence that followed, Jean could only wish that Atticus had come with her. He always knew exactly what to say in these situations and she was sure he would have said something to Helen about Tom that would have comforted her. She herself knew next to nothing about Tom. All Atticus had told her was that he was being kept in Abbotsville until his trial started and that all he talked about when Atticus went to see him was how much he missed Helen and his children. Wait, had she told Helen that?

"Tom misses you." She squeezed Helen's fingers again, inwardly berating herself for not telling her the one thing that might have given her some comfort.

"Hmm?" Helen looked up from the table.

"When Atticus goes out to Abbotsville to see him, he says all Tom talks about is how much he misses you and the children. You're all the only thing givin' him hope while he's locked up. I probably should have told you that long before now but I thought Atticus already had," she gave her a smile.

Helen's eyes began to sparkle with tears once more but she managed to keep herself together. "My poor Tom. He's probably terrified wherever they're keepin' him. If they'd only let me see him," she repeated again and shook her head. "Mrs Finch, could you do somethin' for me?" She then asked after a beat.

"You know I will, Helen. Just name it," Jean gave her another smile.

"Can you get Mr Finch to tell Tom that we're all thinkin' 'bout him, too. And to tell him that I love him and I miss him."

"I'll tell him the minute I get through the door. Don't worry, honey. Tom will be home before you know it."

oOo

As Tom's trial got closer still Atticus was spending more time at the office that he was at home, and it was all too easy to see the toll it was starting to take on him. The bags under his eyes never seemed to leave, he'd lost quite a bit of weight in the last while, and he was barely sleeping through the night which was something that only happened when he was stressed. If she was honest, Jean was more than a little worried about him. Atticus was skilled at staying detached from a case so as not to let it effect him, but it seemed that Tom's case was effecting him physically as well as mentally.

After supper one evening when Jem and Scout had not long gone to bed, he'd settled himself in the living room poring over yet another file. As Jean came through from the kitchen, she saw him run his hand through his hair in frustration and let out an irritated groan. Whatever he was looking at evidently was making no sense to him. On top of everything else, he also seemed to be more tense lately and found it near impossible to wind down in the evenings, always going to bed with the same worries that had been plaguing him that morning.

"Honey." Jean said, approaching behind his chair. "Why don't you leave that all for one night and have an early night, hmm? I can't remember the last time you actually slept through the night and you're exhausted. You nearly fell asleep in your supper tonight, don't think I didn't notice." She attempted to tease him as she began massaging his shoulders in the hope it would relax him.

He sighed heavily and dropped his file onto his knee, lifting his hands to wearily rub them over his face. "Jeannie, I can't. You wouldn't believe the sheer volume of things I've yet to look at and if I don't do it now, I'll never get it all read in time. I don't know how it happened, but I've fallen behind on this case. I need to know it inside out and back to front if I want to give Tom the best defence I can possibly can."

Jean frowned at feeling him tense up more instead of relax under her hands. She leaned down to wrap her arms around him and murmur in his ear. "You're gonna make yourself ill if you keep this up." She placed a kiss on the side of his head.

It had happened on a case just a few years ago. As a result of her coming down with a severe bout of the flu and Atticus insisting on staying at home to take care of her, he'd forced himself to work through the night so many times that he'd ended up making himself sick. This in turn lead to him missing a great deal of work and saw him become grumpy and irritable. Jean didn't want him putting himself through that again.

"Honey, honestly, I'll be fine. I just need to reread over this and a few other files and I'll leave it for the night. I promise I'll be in bed before midnight." He added when she tightened her hold around him.

"If you aren't, I'll be dragging you in there kicking and screaming if I have to." She smiled and kissed his temple. "But tomorrow you'll be in bed before ten o'clock, no arguments. I'm going to make sure you get a proper nights sleep if it kills me." She patted his shoulders and moved around him to take her seat on the sofa and pick up a book.

She had no sooner opened it and reclined back than there came the sound of soft knocking on the front door. It was nine o'clock at night and therefore much too late for anyone to be making a social call, so she looked to her husband only to find him sitting with the same confused expression on his face. Whoever was at the door was someone neither of them were expecting. Jean promptly shut her book and took herself to the door to find Heck Tate standing outside nervously twisting his hat in his hands. The usually bright and lively man didn't even smile when he saw her approach and continued looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Good evening, Heck," Jean greeted him cheerily once she got the doors open. Even when she was standing before him, he still did not smile. "Come on in."

Heck looked uneasy as he came into the front hall. He glanced about him for any sign of Jem and Scout should they still be up before turning back to Jean. "Evening, Mrs Finch. I hate to come botherin' you all so late but I was wonderin' if I could speak to Mr Finch?" He asked while still nervously pulling at his hat.

"Of course. He's right in here. You sure look troubled tonight, Heck. You're not here to see Atticus because that wife of yours has asked you for a divorce, are you?" She teased him to try and get some sort of smile from him as she took him through to the living rom. He was usually a man who could give as good as he got with Jean, but still he didn't crack a smile.

Atticus had stood at hearing the voices in the hallway and was waiting for them when they came into the room. "Evening, Heck," he greeted him, ushering him to sit down.

"No, sir, I can't stay," he looked around him again uneasily. "I just came to say to you that words gotten around of my bringing Tom Robinson back to the jail. I'm just worried that there might be trouble, especially from that bunch out at Old Sarum," he told Atticus with a knowing look in his direction.

Atticus stood and thought for a moment, his eyes flickering towards his wife every few seconds, until he appeared to quickly reach a decision. "Leave it with me, Heck. I'll take care of things."

Heck nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. Well, I better be goin'. I just wanted to let you know what was happening." He bowed his head somewhat in Jean's direction before somberly leaving. Once the door was closed, Atticus was clearing up his files and placing them back in his briefcase.

"Honey, what are you doing?" Jean asked, watching him search around the room for his suit jacket.

"I'm going to go down to the jail and sit outside. Just to be sure nothin' happens to Tom," he said casually as if it were the most obvious response in the world.

Jean felt the blood drain from her face. "Atticus, have you gone completely mad? You can't! If you go to that jail you'll come home to me in a body bag!" Her voice had started to shake as she grabbed at his arm. It was a suicide mission he was thinking of going on.

"Jean, honey, you're overreacting. I can reason with 'em and make 'em see sense. They'll most likely be friends of ours, they won't hurt me." He gently pulled his arm from her grasp and continued down the hall.

"For a smart man you can be incredibly naive when you want to be!" She was struggling to keep her voice in a whisper so as not to wake the children. "Do you really think they're just going to leave because you politely tell them to? Heck was talking about a lynch mob, Atticus, a _lynch mob_! It'll be you against Lord knows how many other men! Atticus, please!" She was begging him now, tears stinging the back of her eyes. She was absolutely petrified that if he went out there, he would be viewed as nothing more than collateral damage by the people who wanted to get at Tom, no matter if they were friends of his or not. Who knows what they'd do to him if they didn't outright kill him.

She followed him down the hall getting herself more and more worked up as he merely shook his head at her. "Jean, I have to. Someone has to make sure he stays safe and returns to his family when this whole thing is over. If me sitting outside that jail all night is what it takes then that's what I'm going to do." He said as he retrieved an extension cord and a book and made his way back to the front door.

Jean was trembling as she watched him go, so overcome with fear that he wouldn't come home that she could barely speak. She was torn between running to him and telling him she loved him, or stand her ground and keep arguing with him. As she thought about it, she realised that twelve years of marriage had taught her that Atticus Finch was as stubborn as a mule. She decided that arguing with him would be fruitless and only managed to find her voice when he had opened the screen door.

"Atticus!" She called, running to him quietly as he turned. She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tightly to her. "Please, _please_ be careful! I love you."

He shifted the extension cord in his arms to hold her better and gently kissed her. "I'll be back so quick you won't even realise I'm gone. I love you." He said and, giving her one last kiss, left the house.

As he started the car and headed in the direction of the town, Jean was certain she was going to throw up. She had never had a reason to be so incredibly scared for her husband and she didn't know just what she was supposed to do. It wasn't as thought she could distract herself by spending time with her children seeing as they had been put to bed long ago. She wasn't about to wake them and have them ask all sorts of questions about where Atticus was. This was something she'd have to shoulder herself.

She was petrified. Atticus and her children were her entire world. If something were to happen to him and he didn't come home, she'd never be the same. She couldn't imagine having to explain to her two children, who both worshipped their father, that something had happened to him. For the first time in all the years they had been married, she was imagining a life without him. It wasn't one she ever wanted to experience.

For what seemed like a lifetime, she busied herself around the house to try and distract herself. Mostly, she spent the entire evening in Atticus' study tidying up his papers, something she knew he'd likely kill her for when he couldn't find anything. Her stomach was in knots as she shakily put things in drawers and put books on shelves. She was so tired she thought she may pass out but she was determined to stay awake to see her husband home.

When the clock read half past ten and the sound of the car engine pulling into the driveway could be heard, Jean thought she might just faint with relief. He was alright. As quickly as she could, she took herself from his study to the hallway and listened to the sound quick footsteps on the front porch. Her stomach twisted.

Something was wrong.

There was an urgent knock on the door and Jean nearly tripped over herself in her hurry to get there. When she finally got the door unlocked and opened, Heck Tate was standing on the porch as white as a sheet.

"Mrs Finch, I came as quickly as I could." He was holding his hat in his hands and Jean could see them shaking. "Mr Finch has been shot."


	9. Chapter 9

_Jean felt as though ice had been poured through her veins. Everything around her was cold, she was numb, she couldn't make sense of what was happening. The doctor in front of her was talking but what he was saying refused to register. She felt as though he had pushed her down a deep black tunnel and every word he said pushed her further and further away from the light._

 _"I'm sorry, ma'am, there was nothin' we could do," the doctor kept talking to her. "The bullet went straight into his brain. He wouldn't have known what was happening. It would have been quick."_

 _Jean was shaking her head furiously. "No!" She screamed at the doctor. "No, you're wrong! You're so wrong!" She kept screaming, knowing there was no way what he was saying could be true. "Take me to him. I want to see my husband!"_

 _The doctor didn't move. "I'm afraid I can't, ma'am. You see, he's dead." He said again, his face rigid and emotionless._

 _"No, my husband is not dead! I want to see him now!" She tried to get past the doctor but he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her._

 _"He's dead, ma'am. Dead."_

 _Jean shook her head again. "Why do you keep sayin' that! Let me see him!"_

 _"Dead, ma'am. He's dead. Dead."_

Jean woke with a start. She'd had a nightmare again. For the past few nights her nightmares had caused her to wake with a start in the middle of the night. They were never the same. Sometimes she found Atticus outside the jailhouse in a puddle of blood, sometimes he was lying with some unsightly wound on the hospital floor, or, worst of all, Atticus would be alive only to die in her arms as soon as she went to him. It was that particular version of her nightmare that would cause her to wake in tears and hating herself that she hadn't done more to save him.

In all the years they had been married Jean had never even entertained the idea that something would happen her husband. Atticus was too well liked, too well respected within the town for anyone to cause him any type of harm. He was everyone's friend and never said no to a neighbour who needed help. It was unfathomable to Jean that someone could then do what they did to him.

When she turned her head she saw that Atticus was still unconscious. On top of being shot, he'd also suffered a significant blow to the head and hadn't come round since he had been brought in. Looking at him now Jean could see an almighty bruise beginning to form on his forehead. She reached out and took hold of his hand lying limp on the bed, hoping that, even in his unconscious state, he could recognise that she was right there beside him.

Jean couldn't believe just how _lucky_ Atticus had been. By some act of God Dr Reynolds had been out on late night call and happened to drive past the jailhouse. It was thanks to him that Atticus was taken quickly to hospital and they were able to extract the bullet from his side. He was so _incredibly_ lucky that there was going to be no permanent damage to his body or mind.

"You're gonna be just fine, baby. I promise," she whispered, hoping that somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind that he could hear her.

At the sound of the room door opening behind her, she jumped a little, but relaxed and smiled when she realised it was only one of the night nurses.

"Still no change?" The young woman asked.

Jean shook her head. "Not a thing, but it's fine. This is probably the most rest he's had in the past few months." She replied, turning back to watch her husband.

The nurse raised her eyes as she checked over Atticus. "Workaholic type, huh?"

Jean couldn't help but smile at her friendliness. "Perfectionist more like it. He's got a big case comin' up and he's not leaving anything to chance."

"I'd definitely want him on my side, then, if I ever got in trouble," the nurse joked. "He sounds like a real good lawyer."

"He's one of the best," Jean replied, looking fondly at her husband.

The nurse finished up and placed her stethoscope back around her neck, looking every inch the professional. "You should get some more sleep, ma'am, it's only just gone three in the morning."

"I'll try, thank you." Jean said, watching her leave the room. She didn't plan on going back to sleep, wanting to be awake incase Atticus came round, but soon her eyelids were heavy and she was nodding off again.

This time there were no nightmares.

oOo

Jean slept soundly for the remainder of the night, albeit a little uncomfortably in the bedside chair. When she began to stir that morning it was to the sensation of something moving in her hair. She groaned a little thinking she was still dreaming, but when she fully woke up she realised it was Atticus' hand. He had finally regained consciousness.

Turning her head in his direction, she saw he was groggily looking down at her. "Hey, you." She said with a wide smile. "Welcome back."

"Jean." He tried to say, but his throat was too dry to make any real sound. Quickly, Jean was on her feet giving him water and making him more comfortable. "What happened?" He asked, as she put another pillow behind his head.

Jean sat back down by his side and took hold of his hand. "You were shot, honey. One of 'em shot you," she explained quietly. She watched him process the information, watched him piece together everything that had happened that night that had caused him to end up in a hospital bed. She knew what he was going to say before he had even opened his mouth.

He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry," he croaked.

Jean squeezed his hand. "Shh, what do you have to be sorry for? None of this is your fault."

"You told me not to go." He replied, a flicker of a smile flashing on his face.

"Mhmm, I did. You're as stubborn as a mule, Atticus Finch. If your mind was made up to go then I didn't have a hope of changing it, did I?" Jean teased him, needing him to know that she wasn't angry at him in the slightest. "Atticus, all that matters to me right now is you gettin' better."

Atticus gave her a smile in response. "How's Tom?" He then asked, suddenly sounding a great deal more alert.

"A little shaken but fine otherwise. They didn't get near him, so I guess you sitting out there actually saved his life." Jean squeezed his hand again. "John's put a postponement on the trial again until you've recovered. The doctor said you'll be on bed rest for a few weeks." As she had expected, he started to protest.

"Jean, I.."

Jean immediately cut him off. "Atticus, you've just been shot. You had a concussion. If the doctor is ordering bed rest then I'll tie you to the bed when you get home if I have to." She sighed and rubbed her thumb across his fingers. "You're not gonna bounce back from this right away, baby. You need to get enough rest."

She knew he wanted to protest more, convince her that he'd be fine to get back to work as soon as the hospital let him leave. Atticus Finch wasn't a man who liked to sit idle for any length of time, so weeks on bed rest would likely have him going stir crazy. Jean watched him attempt to formulate some sort of agreement in his head, but he either hadn't got the mental energy or had accepted that this was one fight he wasn't going to win.

"Where're..." he began instead.

"Maudie's watching 'em," Jean told him. "They wanted to come and see you but I wanted you to come round first. I didn't want to scare 'em."

Atticus nodded slowly at her. "Bring 'em next time?"

"Course I will, baby," Jean assured him. "Why don't you get some more sleep, hmm? You still look a little off," she said, though she needn't have said a word. As quickly as he had come round again Atticus had fallen asleep against the pillows.

oOo

When Jean had told her children what had happened to Atticus they were distraught. Jem had gone so white she was sure he was going to faint right in front of her. In a voice that was barely more than a whisper he had asked her if Atticus was dead. When she had assured him that she had been talking to their father only the previous day, it was Scout who then asked if Atticus was _going_ to die. Her children had been filled with so much terror at hearing what had happened to Atticus that they couldn't believe he _was_ alright.

It had taken Jean almost the entire morning to convince them both that Atticus was fine, but Jem's thoughts then began to take a different track.

"Who did it, Mama? Who shot Atticus?" He asked her as they walked to the hospital that afternoon. The tone of his voice made her consider her answer.

"Some bad people who wanted to hurt Tom Robinson. Your daddy was trying to protect him and they hurt him instead," Jean answered.

"Was it someone we know? Was it one of my friends' daddies? Was it someone Atticus defended?" Jem continued to question her.

Jean sighed at him. "I don't know who it was, Jem, so enough questions, and you're not to go asking your daddy when we get to the hospital," she added. "Do you hear me, Jem? He's tired and still recovering. I want you to promise me you aren't gonna pester him with questions."

"Alright, Mama, I promise!" Jem replied, sounding offended that Jean would think he would do such a thing.

"Mama, is Atticus gonna remember who we are?" Scout asked from her other side. Jean had to stop herself from laughing at her daughter's innocence.

"Of course he's gonna remember you, baby. Why wouldn't he?"

Scout shrugged. "I dunno. Dill that that when people go to hospital they forget who you are sometimes," she explained.

Jean rolled her eyes. "You should take what Dill says with a grain of salt, my dear. Your daddy won't have forgotten who you are. He'll be thrilled to see you both."

As they continued on towards the hospital Jean couldn't help but notice that her son's mood appeared to get darker. While Scout chattered on happily about whatever stories Maudie had been telling them while she stayed with them, Jem stayed silent. Jean knew he was angry. He was almost as protective over Atticus as she was, and the thought that someone had caused him harm and pain had unsettled him. In a bid to bestow some sort of comfort on her son, Jean placed her arm around his small shoulders as they walked. Surprisingly, Jem didn't shake her off.

When they reached the hospital and climbed the stairs to Atticus' ward, Jem and Scout were like bullets out of a gun running down the hallway to see him.

"Atticus!" Scout was calling as they reached his room, running straight towards him and throwing her arms around him as best she could.

"Scout, what did I say? Be careful," Jean warned, coming in behind her.

Immediately, Scout stood back. "Sorry, Atticus. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Atticus smiled at her. "It's ok, honey, you didn't. Come here." Scout went back into his embrace and nuzzled her face into his neck, grateful to be back with the father she adored.

In the midst of everything Jem remained standing by the door, looking terrified to even step foot in the room. "Jem, aren't you comin' in to see your daddy?" Jean said to him, watching him look at Atticus with trepidation.

He stayed silent for a moment, clearly struggling with something. "Atticus, sir, are you hurt?" Jem eventually asked, his voice cracking on the last word. Jean felt her heart break for her son. He really couldn't let himself believe that his father was fine.

"Why don't you come over and see for yourself, son?" Atticus said to him gently.

Slowly, Jem approached the bed, almost as if walking too quickly would cause Atticus pain. He put his hand on Atticus' stomach, feeling the thick bandages beneath his pyjama shirt. "Is that where the bullet was?" He asked.

"It was," Atticus replied.

"Did they get it out?"

"They did."

"Did it hurt?"

"I don't remember, son."

"They get the _whole_ bullet?"

"Yes, Jem."

"So you're gonna be ok?"

"I am, son."

Jem looked up at Jean as if wanting her to confirm that Atticus wasn't lying. When Jean nodded her head, Jem put his arms around his father and she swore she heard her son stifle a sob. Her baby had been terrified.

"Shhh." Atticus soothed him, raising a hand to rub circles on Jem's back.

"We're gonna be alright, aren't we, Atticus?" Jem raised his head, a few tears still running down his cheeks.

"Of course we are, son. We're all gonna be alright."


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** I'm sorry about how long this chapter is but I have a lot to say.

* * *

After everything that had happened in the past few months, Jean reckoned she shouldn't have been surprised when she suddenly became very ill, but as someone who rarely experienced any form of ill health she was thrown and, if honest, a little pissed off. Falling ill couldn't have come at a worse time for her. It wasn't as though she could allow herself the luxury of resting with two children and a bed bound husband to take care of, neither could she entrust everything to the care of Cal who already did so much for her family. Unfortunately, she just had to keep marching on.

Atticus had been allowed home the previous week and thankfully wasn't a demanding patient. Other than asking for the newspaper or a drink of water, Jean discovered he was actually quite content to stay where he was. She was more than relieved for this. She was feeling more exhausted than ever with running after Jem and Scout, helping Cal with the house, and being ill all at the same time. By the time she crawled into bed each night she felt as though she'd ran from Maycomb to Montgomery.

After Jem and Scout left for school was usually when Jean would get started on any laundry that needed to be done, but that morning she felt so completely drained and it wasn't even nine in the morning. Rather than do her usual chores, she instead threw herself down on the bed next to Atticus, folding one arm across her eyes in the hope she'd fall asleep.

"You alright?" He asked, glancing away from his newspaper. "You're being ill an awful lot."

Jean only groaned in reply. "I reckon I picked up somethin' in that hospital. It sure isn't as clean as the one in Montgomery." She said, and felt Atticus reach over and take her hand.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault."

Jean lifted her arm away from her eyes, looking at Atticus in exasperation for a few moments. When she was sure she wasn't going to vomit on him, she pulled herself back up on the bed, put her arm around him and rested her chin on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar safe scent that was her husband.

"Will you _stop_ sayin' you're sorry." She said, kissing his cheek. "Nothin' that you've apologised for has been your fault, especially not me being ill. I've been ill before and survived. It's not the end of the world," she teased him.

"It's my fault that..." he began again, but Jean cut him off.

"Enough," she berated him gently. "You keep apologising and I won't give you that medicine you like so much."

"Have I told you that I'm sorry?" He replied, laughter in his eyes when he looked at her.

oOo

On the day that Tom Robinson's trial was to go ahead, Atticus had been out of bed for five days. Jean was nervous that a case of this magnitude would be too much for him so soon, but Atticus insisted he was perfectly fine to be in court. Despite his persistence in assuring her he was fine, Jean couldn't help but nervously watch him as he sat at the table that morning. Dr Reynolds had prescribed painkillers for any lingering pain Atticus may still be experiencing, but Jean noticed that he'd only taken a few, always saying that the pain wasn't that bad. As she watched him carefully that morning she couldn't miss him wince every so often.

"Are you sure you're alright, honey?" She asked, watching him grimace with every small movement.

"I'm fine." He replied simply, reaching out to affectionately shake her knee.

Jean continued to stare as he turned his attention back to his paper. She knew damn well he was in pain and was trying to act as though it wasn't bothering him. He had a long enough day ahead of him without being plagued by pain that could be very easily remedied. Setting her coffee cup down, she went and retrieved his painkillers, taking two of the small pills from the box and filling a glass with water.

"Men," she muttered to Cal who was getting breakfast ready for Jem and Scout. She heard her chuckle softly in response and say something which sounded like "always think they know best'" and went back to Atticus. "Take these." She said firmly, placing the glass and pills in front of him.

He sighed and looked over his glasses at her. "Jean, I don't need 'em. I feel fine. Besides, I can't risk falling asleep in court because I've taken some painkillers." He pushed the glass away from him.

"They're ibuprofen. Drowsiness isn't a side effect." She smiled triumphantly and pushed the glass back towards him.

He continued to peer at her. "I don't need 'em, I'm not in any pain. Where's the sense in taking painkillers when there's no pain to kill." He pushed the glass back.

Jean sat forward and folded her arms on the table as though she were interrogating him. "Atticus Finch, I've been your wife for twelve years. I can read you like a book and I see you twitching and wincing every time you move. You may have the biggest case of your career today, but you aren't leaving this house until you take these painkillers. Even if I have to strap you to that chair and force them down your throat." She quirked an eyebrow at him. He glared at her as he lifted the pills and put them in his mouth, never breaking eye contact as he took a drink and sat the glass back down. "There now. Isn't that better?" She cooed at him like he was a child and reached out to pinch his cheek.

"You're a devil from hell, Jean Finch." He tried not to smile as Jem came walking in, looking towards his father as he took a seat.

"Mornin' son," Atticus greeted him as Jean ruffled his hair.

"Mornin'," Jem mumbled as Cal put his plate down in front of him. "How are you feelin', sir?" He asked, looking apprehensively at his father. Ever since Atticus had returned home from hospital Jem had asked him everyday if he was feeling fine. He never stopped worrying about him.

"Like I was just sayin' to your mama, I feel just fine. Don't be worryin' about me, son." He reached out and patted Jem's hand as Scout joined them at the table, smiling brightly and chattering away animatedly about what she was going to do that day.

Jem looked warily from his father to his mother but ultimately decided to say no more on the issue. "Tom Robinson's trial starts today, don't it, Atticus?" He then asked.

"It does. I'll be in court all afternoon so I won't be home for dinner," he looked at Jean as he spoke.

"Cal, will you be able to handle these two rascals on your own?" Jean leaned back in her chair to get a better look at her.

"Won't be a problem, Miss Jean. I'll be sure to keep 'em busy," she stared fixedly at Jem and Scout who looked towards each other in horror. Cal was always thinking of creative ways to make sure they were "kept busy".

"Are you going somewhere?" Atticus asked his wife with a raised eyebrow.

Jean looked at him in disbelief. "You're a nightly foolish man if you think I'm not gonna sitting front row in that courtroom supporting you."

"Jean, you're still ill. I don't want you making yourself worse."

Jean rolled her eyes. "This is from the man who was shot and had a concussion. Don't try and argue, Atticus, I'll be sitting right there behind you no matter how many times you tell me not to."

Atticus opened his mouth to argue but thought against it and instead placed his hand over hers which rested on his leg, a silent indication that he was truly thankful for his wife's support. There were so many people against him on this trial that having his strongly supportive wife sat behind him may be a small comfort.

"Mama, can we go with you?" Scout piped up innocently as she ate her breakfast.

"No, baby, I don't think that courtroom will be the best place for you today. You just stay here with your brother and do whatever Cal asks you to," she instructed her daughter who nodded contentedly, clearly not really caring if she could be in the courtroom or not.

"But Mama!" Jem quickly spoke up. "I wanted to go watch! I want to see Atticus win his case!" He turned to his father in the hope that he would agree that he should be allowed to go. He'd never missed a case of Atticus' and always enjoyed sitting with the crowd behind Atticus' chair watching his father do what he did best.

"Jem, I don't want you in that courtroom today, please. Do as your mama says and stay here and help Cal," He echoed Jean's earlier words.

"Atticus, you always let me and Scout watch your cases!" Jem continued to plead as Atticus shook his head.

"This one is different. I don't want you in that courtroom," he said again firmly. "I'm going to go and get everything together," he said, indicating that the conversation was over. When he had left the kitchen, Jem turned to Jean.

"Mama, please can I just sit with you for ten minutes! Please, Mama!" Jem continued to beg his mother.

"I'm sorry, Jem. Neither your daddy nor me want you in court, so you're just going to have to stay at home." She reached out her hand to ruffle Jem's hair only to have him pull his head out of her reach. A little stung, she retracted her arm. "Well, I'm going to go and see your daddy off to work." She sighed and followed her husband out of the kitchen, Scout's command of "stop bein' mean to Mama" making her smile. She reached Atticus just as he was getting ready to walk out through the door and placed her hand on his arm.

"Are you sure you want to be in this courtroom today?" He asked as she wrapped her arms around him. "Things might get a little ugly."

"I'm a big girl, honey, I think I can handle whatever will be said," she said wryly. "As for wanting to be there, yes I'm sure. I want to support my husband in the biggest case of his life."

He sighed quietly. "I'd be lyin' if I said I wouldn't like you to be there. You do have a way of making me stay calm," he admitted.

She gave him a squeeze. "If I don't see you before you go in, I want you to know that I believe in you one hundred and ten per cent. I know you're going to fight tooth and nail for Tom's innocence. I'm so proud of you." She stretched up to kiss him.

"Let's see how proud you are of me when the whole thing is over."

oOo

Jem's pleading and begging to go to the trial continued all morning and annoyed Cal so much she threatened to whip him even if wasn't ten anymore. Jean had calmly explained to him that the trial would consist of things he was too young to understand, things she and Atticus wanted to protect him from. It didn't matter how she tried to defend her actions, however, Jem still accused her of treating him like a baby and stormed off to his room. Not being in the mood to fight with her son, Jean gave up and left the house at a quarter to twelve to walk to the courthouse.

It seemed like everyone in Maycomb and two counties over was coming to watch the trial. She shook her head at the ladies dressed in their Sunday finery and the children lolling on the grass eating ice cream. To them, this might have well have been Mardi Gras and not an innocent man on trial for his life. The whole thing made Jean feel sick.

The courthouse was boiling hot as she entered and took her seat behind Atticus, reaching across the wooden barrier to place a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back briefly to smile at her before turning back to the papers in front of him. Jean sat and looked around the courtroom as she waited, ignoring all the people who tried to subtly look in her direction. She'd grown used to the dirty looks and comments of "there's his wife" or "she must be ashamed of him" that followed her around since Atticus had agreed to defend Tom. Quite frankly, Jean couldn't have cared less and let them think what they wanted. She had never been prouder to be Atticus' wife.

As she was glancing around, something in the coloured balcony caught her eye and she glanced up, her heart nearly stopping when she caught sight of Jem and Scout watching from above. Scout caught Jean's eye and her face immediately fell. Jean continued glowering at them as Scout poked Jem and he looked down at Jean, his eyes going wide at being caught. She shook her head at them just as the court clerk ordered everyone to rise. Turning back, she saw Tom Robinson had taken his place at the defence table, John Taylor was coming through to take his seat, and the trial was ready to begin.

She watched along with the whole courtroom as Heck Tate was the first to testify and recount for Horace Gilmer what had unfolded the night of Mayella Ewell's attack. She watched as Atticus got Heck to confirm that it was Mayella's right eye that was badly beaten up, which would be consistent with her having been attacked by someone that was left handed. She watched then as Bob Ewell and Mayella Ewell then took the stand, her eyes narrowing when Bob accused Tom of taking advantage of Mayella but she found herself feeling sorry for the girl, especially when Atticus tore into her to try and get her to admit what had really happened that night. When Atticus proved to the court and the jury that Bob Ewell was left handed and reinforced the fact that Mayella's injuries were on the right side of her face, Jean heard someone behind her whisper "what's he playin' at?"

It was after Mayella Ewell testified that Tom Robinson was called to the stand. He gingerly sat down and politely and respectfully answered each question Atticus asked him. Through his questioning, Atticus was able to clearly show how Tom was a gentle giant of a man that Mayella Ewell had ended up falling for. If the jury had trouble believing his innocence before, Jean thought that his testimony set it in stone.

After Horace Gilmer's questions came Atticus' closing statement and Jean sat up a little straighter in her seat. She felt her eyes begin to well up as he fought so passionately for Tom's innocence and indeed his life. If she had been one of the men in that jury, she wouldn't have thought twice about voting "not guilty" after listening to Atticus.

When Atticus had finished giving his closing remarks, the jury retired and court was then in recess. As people began to file out of the room, Jean motioned for Jem and Scout to come down from the balcony. She greeted them with raised eyebrows and a look of disappointment on her face. They may have disobeyed her, but she was finding it difficult to stay angry at them. She found that she actually wanted them to see their father fighting this case. She could only hope that they weren't too broken when the verdict came in.

As she looked at them, Jem refused to meet her eye. "I'm sorry we came down here, Mama, but I wanted to watch. You and Atticus never have a problem with us watchin' any of his other cases," he still stared straight at the ground.

Jean sighed as she watched them, her earlier anger at them completely gone. "Well, I suppose I can't be _too_ mad at you. I was always sneakin' out to places when my mama told me not to," she said and Jem looked up at her with a smile.

"You mean we can stay?" He looked at her hopefully.

"If you both stay close to Reverend Sykes then yes, you can stay. There's no room for you pair of devils down where I'm sitting," she allowed, a half smile on her face.

"Thank you, Mama!" Jem half shouted and turned to run back up the stairs with his sister.

"Scout," Jean called after her daughter. She stopped abruptly on the stairs and turned. "You listen to your brother." She bit back a laugh as Scout scowled at her. She didn't like listening to anyone never mind having to listen to her older brother. She could never accept that, despite his young age, sometimes Jem did know best.

Jean returned to the courtroom after that, half dozing off as she sat for what seemed like hours until Atticus and Tom took their seats behind the defence table. They were then followed by the jury. Atticus had often told her that when a jury convicted a person, they wouldn't look at them as they filed in.

This jury didn't so much as glance at Tom.

John Taylor quickly followed and requested that the jury foreman give his verdict. Jean's heart was in her mouth as he stood. "We find the defendant guilty as charged."

Jean's hand went to her mouth as her eyes quickly jumped to Tom, her heart shattering when she realised he hadn't even flinched; he'd known all along what the verdict would be.

Everything seemed to move at a quickened pace as Tom was led away again, Atticus following behind begging him not to lose hope as they still had the appeal. Tom looked back at him with eyes so devoid of hope it nearly made her cry. The courtroom quickly emptied and soon it was just Atticus, Jean, and the people on the balcony. As Atticus returned to the table and began putting his papers back in his briefcase, Jean approached him and gently rubbed his shoulder. He made no indication that he was aware of her presence and only continued putting things away. As he moved to walk down the aisle, he stopped suddenly and took her hand in his. She knew then that he needed her.

In silence they left the courthouse to wait for Jem and Scout under a nearby lamppost. Every few seconds, she would feel Atticus squeeze her hand. Whatever was going on in his head, he was grateful to have her by his side.

"Honey," she spoke up as they waited. "I'm _so_ proud of you." She squeezed his hand a little tighter as they stood. "Do you know how long you kept that jury out? My love, that was an achievement in itself. You might not have won the case but you made them think long enough about the charges and who was making 'em. You might have took a baby step towards changing things here," she tried to comfort him.

"Tom has lost all hope. I could see it in the way he looked at me. He's completely given up," Atticus' voice was tight as he turned to look at her.

"He might have, but you haven't. You said it yourself that there's still the appeal. You can't lose heart now, Atticus, not now when there's so much riding on this appeal. You have to stay positive for Tom." She stretched up to kiss his cheek as Jem and Scout approached in the distance. As they got closer, she could see that Jem was crying.

"Mama!" He flung himself at her and wrapped his arms around her middle. "How could they do it? How could they do it, Atticus?" He turned his tear stained face to his father.

"I don't know, son, but they did. They've done it before and they'll do it again." Atticus answered straightforwardly and began to move past them to walk home, only stopping to once again take Jean's hand in his.

Jem's sniffling could be heard behind them the entire way home, but he made no indication that he sought the comfort of his parents, so both Jean and Atticus let him work through his feelings on his own. The one thing they had both been afraid of had happened. Their son had lost his innocence.

They had just reached home when the sound of a car approaching and tooting as it came caused them all to turn. Heck Tate was sitting at the edge of the pavement. His face was white. "Mr Finch, can I talk to you a moment?" He asked slowly, watching Jean and the children as he did so.

Atticus turned towards his wife who squeezed his hand and led the children to sit on the front porch steps. She put her arms around her son as best she could to try and comfort him. "Shhh, baby, it's alright." She murmured in his ear and stroked his hair. "Tom's gonna be fine. You don't need to cry."

Jem didn't reply and stayed crying quietly into her chest. Keeping one arm around him, she reached out and placed a hand on Scout's knee. Her daughter had been watching the whole thing with an alarmed expression but still remained unaffected by the days events. She had no idea why her brother was so upset. Jean could only envy her age and the blissful ignorance that came along with it. What she wouldn't give to have Jem at an age where he could go to bed peacefully untouched by what had transpired at the courthouse. In her heart she knew he wouldn't be the same after this.

As Heck Tate quickly drove off again and Atticus came back up the path with a somber expression on his face. "Honey, what's…" Jean began.

"Tom Robinson's dead," he said simply before she could finish, the tone of his voice conveying that he was struggling to believe what he had just said. Jean's hand went to her mouth and Jem's head shot up from her chest. "They were movin' him back to Abbotsville and Tom broke free. The warden fired at him to stop and Tom didn't stop. There were seventeen bullets put in him. Heck said Tom just ran like a crazy man," Atticus shook his head.

"Oh my God." Jean breathed out, her grip around Jem tightening.

Atticus only nodded slowly. "I'm going to out there now and tell his family," he sighed wearily and moved in the direction of the car house.

Jem immediately broke free from her hold and she could hear him running after Atticus. "I'm goin' with you, Atticus!"

She heard Atticus agree and both of them set off to break Helen Robinson's heart.

oOo

It was late when they arrived back. Scout had tried to sit up and wait with Jean but fell asleep in her lap. She'd asked many questions about what had happened that day with Jean answering them as best she could, but she was sure Scout still didn't understand. To her this was just a case that her daddy hadn't won.

Once she had put Scout to bed, Jean was then left to anxiously await the return of her husband and son. Should she have gone with them? Should she have left Scout with Maudie and gone to help Atticus comfort Helen? She knew that it couldn't have been easy for him. Helen would break when she heard the news and there would only be Atticus to try and put the pieces back together. A difficult task seeing as his heart was in pieces too.

About half an hour after Scout had been put to bed, Jean heard the car pull into the driveway. The doors slammed shut and there was silence as she heard them approach. Jem was the first to enter the house, throwing a glance to his mother before going quickly to his room. Atticus then shortly followed, shook his head slowly at his wife and tiredly went to their own room. Jean decided to go after her son first. He had just finished getting into bed when she creaked the door open and peered in.

At seeing his mother, Jem buried himself deeper underneath the duvet. "I don't wanna talk about that stupid trial, Mama! I never want to hear about it again!" He started crying again as she sat by him.

"I don't wanna talk about it either, baby. I just wanted to come in and tell my little boy that I love him and I'm proud of him. Today wasn't easy on you." She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his hair.

"I'm not a little boy anymore, Mama." Jem huffed but hugged her back.

"Baby, if you live to be ninety you'll still be my little boy," Jean found herself laughing slightly.

Jem stayed quiet and hugged her tighter. She could feel him trying to dry his eyes and kissed his hair again, knowing it would take more than a few hugs and kisses to make him feel any better about what he had had to witness that day.

"I love you, Mama." He then spoke in a muffled voice, pulling back from her chest.

"I love you too, baby." She rubbed his head. "Now, get to sleep. You've had a long day."

He hugged her once more for good measure, let her pull his duvet up around him, and watched her leave the room.

When she got to her own room, she found that Atticus was only beginning to get himself undressed. He worked with his back to her which made it difficult for her to determine where his mind was.

"How's Helen?" She asked quietly.

"She fell to pieces when she heard." She saw him shake his head. "I think that poor woman has just about been pushed to her limit. Her husband is arrested for something he didn't do, she doesn't see him for a year, then he's shot dead before he's given the chance to prove his innocence." He let out a shaky breath. "Tom's family are with her tonight but I don't know how she's going to get through this, Jean. I really don't know." He still hadn't turned to face her.

"Atticus," She called and made him turn to her. She took him in her arms and felt him bury his head in her neck, completely collapsing into her.

"I can't help but feel partly responsible." He whispered and continued to clutch at her. "If I had maybe fought that little bit harder he'd still be here. If I'd just tried that little bit harder…"

Jean pulled back and took his face in her hands. "Atticus Finch, you listen to me. If you'd fought any harder you'd have killed yourself. I can say for absolute certain that Helen doesn't hold you responsible and if Tom were here he'd say the same." She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. "Atticus, he was _terrified_ and fear makes us do crazy things. He probably thought he stood a better chance of being on the run. You can't blame yourself for what happened."

He stayed silent for a moment and she swore she could see him blink back tears. "I'll go out to Helen's family again in the morning," was all he said in response.

"I'll go with you," Jean said firmly. She felt him try and to break away but held on to him. "I've never been prouder to be your wife, honey." She whispered and kissed him.

As they climbed into bed that night, she could sense he was still upset and pulled herself closer to him. She rubbed his arm until he finally fell asleep some hours later, and she continued to hold him the rest of the night.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** Just a short lil chapter to make way for what we all know is coming!

* * *

Summer quickly melted into autumn that year, and Jean hoped that a new season would help in easing the pain of the past few months. How naive she had been to believe that everything would turn out just fine. How naive she had been to believe that a town so set in its ways, a town so horribly racist, would listen to a trial with logic instead of prejudice. Now, because of their racism, an innocent man was dead.

Tom Robinson was dead.

The night following his death had been close to unbearable for Atticus. No matter what Jean had said, he had continued on blaming himself and had tossed and turned throughout the night until he woke up. Jean had felt him lie awake, and had heard him eventually get out of bed and go to his study. She knew he would sit at his desk and think, then he would _pace_ and think, and then he would again return to his desk and think. He would think about any possible way things could have been different. Jean could only count the minutes while he was gone, wanting to give him the opportunity to be alone. When he did return she felt him climb into bed, pull her tight against him and bury his face into her hair. Wordlessly, she had placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. She'd always be there.

The following morning at breakfast Atticus was still quiet. He didn't greet Jem and Scout when they tumbled out of bed, only kept his eyes on his plate. Jem appeared to have picked up that Atticus was upset, as Jean noticed him throw glances in his father's direction just as she was.

"Atticus, sir, I think you did real good yesterday. If I had been on the jury I would have voted not guilty," Jem said, wanting to do anything to alleviate his father's distress.

Atticus looked up as Jem spoke, and Jean could see the twinkle of pride shining clearly in his eyes. "Thank you, Jem." He replied, and reached out to massage Jem's hair.

"I'm really proud of you, Atticus," Jem said so quietly Jean almost didn't hear him.

Looking at Atticus Jean found his face was unreadable as always, but she was certain she saw tears build in his eyes. While Jem's words had revived him slightly, Jean knew he still wasn't completely back to himself. For who knew how long, Atticus would continue to look back at that day in the courtroom and wonder what he could have done to change the outcome of events. Tom Robinson would become his cross, and he would continue to torture himself with the events of his death.

After breakfast he said he was going out to visit Helen Robinson again, and Jean kept her promise and went with him. His hands were tight on the steering wheel as he drove, and she knew he'd rather be doing anything else. The closer they got to Helen's house the whiter his knuckles became.

"Stay with me." He said, turning to look at her as they stopped in front of the house.

"Honey, you don't even need to ask. I always will," Jean assured him.

Helen's house was surrounded, and Jean was relieved to see that she hadn't been alone. Family were coming in and out of the small cabin and standing around on the porch. As she and Atticus approached the porch steps all the men removed their hats.

"Mr Finch." Some of them greeted as they passed, and Atticus nodded back at them.

Jean steeled herself to enter Helen's house. No matter how upset Helen was, Jean couldn't fall apart with her, no matter how upset she herself was with everything that had happened. Helen needed comfort, strength and friendship. She needed to know that, even though her husband was dead, she still had an entire village surrounding her who wanted nothing more than to help her.

When they walked through the door Jean saw Helen sitting at her kitchen table, surrounded by four women who could only be her sisters. At seeing Jean and Atticus, Helen stood. Jean wasted no time in wrapping her arms around her friend.

"Helen, honey, I'm _so_ sorry. Whatever you need just tell me." Jean said, feeling Helen shake against her.

"Oh, Miss Jean. Alls I want is my husband." Helen cried into her neck.

Jean breathed deeply to compose herself, holding Helen tight to her and trying her best so silently soothe her. She saw Atticus go and talk to Helen's children, uneasy with her display of emotion.

"C'mon, honey, sit back down and I'll make you some tea." Jean kept her arm around Helen and directed her back to the table. Helen's sisters remained silent as they watched her, evidently not trusting her.

Jean got Helen settled again at the table and sat across from her. She listened to Helen's anguish over Tom's death, listened to her say she hadn't even told the children yet as she couldn't bear to break their hearts. Jean offered whatever comfort she could, though she knew no words would help heal the hole that had formed in Helen's heart. No words would bring her husband back to her. As Helen quieted Atticus returned to the table. Jean sat and watched as he sat beside Helen and took her hands in his.

"Helen, I can only reiterate how sorry I am about Tom's death. He was a good man," he said.

Helen gave him a weak smile. "Mr Finch, it's not your fault. We never believed Tom would get acquitted, did we?" She threw a glance at her sisters. "All the talk I've heard from the courtroom is how hard you fought for him, and I just want to thank you, Mr Finch. Most other's wouldn't have fought as hard as you did."

Jean saw her husband's shoulders relax a fraction. The guilt he was carrying had been ever so slightly reduced, and she was grateful to Helen.

"I appreciate that, Helen." He gave her a small smile. "And like Mrs Finch said, we're here if you ever need anything."

They only stayed a little while longer at Helen's, just long enough to make sure she was ok and had a support system around her to help her get through. Judging by the people who continually kept arriving at the house, Jean knew that Helen would be well taken care of.

When they returned to town Atticus made a stop at the post office. Jean stayed in the car patiently waiting for him, but nearly jumped out of her skin when someone banged the car. Looking out through the drivers side window she saw Bob Ewell. His hands were sitting on the roof and he stood leering in at her.

"Well, if isn't Mrs Finch. I ne'er noticed before what a pretty lil thing you are. Where's that good for nothin' husband of yours, eh?" He grinned at her in a way that made her stomach turn.

"Go to hell," Jean told him coldly. She refused to be intimidated by him.

Bob only laughed menacingly. "So you got fire, too!"

Jean was thankful to see Atticus come out of the post office when he did. He stood where he was and Bob eventually caught sight of him. He sauntered up to Atticus, looked him hatefully in the eye, and spat in his face. From the car Jean could hear clearly what he said to her husband.

"I'll get you, you bastard. If it takes me the rest of my life, I'll get you," Bob said. Atticus merely took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. "Too proud to fight me, you bastard?" Bob then taunted him.

Atticus looked at him serenely. "No. Too old." He replied, and returned to the car.

When he was sitting beside her again, Jean placed her hand on his leg. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Atticus," Jean pressed him.

"Honey, I'm fine." Atticus smiled, covering her hand with his. "He's still angry and upset about the trial. I'd rather he take it out on me than a houseful of children."

"Atticus, be careful," Jean said before she could stop herself. "Bob Ewell isn't the sort of man you want to have as your enemy."

"He's upset. He only needs time to calm down," Atticus reassured her.

Jean wasn't having any of it. "He threatened you, Atticus. Please promise me you'll be careful."

"Honey, you're overthinking things. What could Bob Ewell possibly do to me?" He squeezed her hand.

Jean knew it could only be something bad.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** This probably isn't my _best_ work owing to it being insanely rushed. I start university tomorrow and I didn't want to have the last chapter looming over me! Also, I don't know if I've maybe taken too much liberty with the ending of this, but my head said to go for it so I went for it. Thank you to everyone who read/enjoyed/reviewed! Your kind words have meant the world to me! And an extra special thanks to my good pals (and occasional sounding boards) coinoperatedbecca and Chelsea Oz for reading/reviewing as though this was their first time reading!

* * *

Atticus was called to the Legislature in the middle of October, and Jean breathed a little easier knowing that he was in Montgomery. Being so far away from Maycomb meant that Bob Ewell couldn't get him. She had thought that, after the incident at the jailhouse, Atticus would be a little more careful and wary about people, but he continued to say that Bob's words were empty threats.

Jean didn't think a man like Bob Ewell made empty threats.

During the first week of Atticus' absence, Scout arrived home from school one afternoon and announced that there was going to be a Halloween pageant at the school. She had been chosen to play a ham. She was so excited about the whole production and was convinced it would be her acting debut.

"We have to wear costumes too, Mama, but Miss Stephanie is making 'em so you don't have to worry!" Scout told her happily. Jean couldn't remember the last time she had seen her daughter so excited.

"I reckon that's to keep her from sticking her nose in where it isn't wanted." Jean muttered under her breath, causing Cal to snort with laughter.

"Huh, Mama?" Scout asked innocently.

"Nothin', baby." Jean placed a plate of bread and sugar on the table and ruffled Scout's hair. "I reckon you'll be the best ham Maycomb has ever seen!"

Scout beamed at her. "Will you and Atticus be there, Mama?"

"If I'm feelin' better then wild horses couldn't keep me away," Jean replied. On top of still not being over whatever she had picked up at the hospital, she also now had a horrible cold. She hoped neither would cause her to miss Scout's pageant.

"Will Atticus go?"

Jean smiled. "Well, baby, you know your daddy isn't as young as he used to be. He might be tired out from being in Montgomery." She joked.

Scout nodded seriously. "He _is_ gettin' old, Mama. Maybe he should just go to bed when he gets home."

oOo

When Atticus did arrive home on the afternoon of Scout's pageant, Jem and Scout had pounced on him before he even had the chance to take his coat off. Jean knew he didn't mind in the slightest. He told her that the thing he hated most about having to go to Montgomery so often was not being able to take them with him, and that he sometimes drove a little faster on the way home to see them sooner.

"Mama! Atticus got me a book!" Scout came through to the kitchen, happily waving her new book in the air.

"What book did he get you, baby?" Jean asked, drying her hands on a tea towel.

"The Jungle Book." Scout read from the cover. "Miss Caroline said books like these are bad, but I'm gonna read it anyway." She smirked at Jean.

Smiling, Jean glanced over her head. "Where's your brother?"

"In the living room. Atticus got him some new football magazines." She told her, already sitting at the kitchen table and opening her book.

"And these for you." Atticus came through to the kitchen with a small box in his hands. Jean knew they were her favourite chocolates from Montgomery.

"Oh, so you actually remembered? I'm impressed!" Jean teased him.

"As if I'd forget." He crossed to her and kissed her hello. Jean wasn't able to help herself and wrapped her arms around him, breathing him in. Though she was used to his absences, she missed him every time he left. He gave her a squeeze and she let go.

"These'll be a real treat for after supper!" Jean took the box from his hands and placed them on the counter.

"Atticus, are you comin' to my pageant tonight?" Scout asked, her eyes not moving from her book.

Atticus glanced at Jean. "Baby, I'm done in. I'm going to have to miss it I'm sorry."

At the table, Scout shrugged. "That's ok. Jem's gonna go anyway."

"Isn't your mama going?" He looked back at Jean.

"If any of you can make this cold go away in a few hours then I'll be first there," Jean replied.

She hated that being ill was making her miss something that was obviously so important to her daughter. She had never missed any milestones or things of importance in the whole of her children's lives. She couldn't help feeling as though she was letting her down.

As if reading her thoughts, Atticus put an arm around her. "Well, Scout, you'll just have to fill us in on everything when you get home."

oOo

After supper that evening, Scout put on a brief display of what she would be performing at the pageant. Jean and Atticus sat in the living room while Jem stood at the door and called "Pork!" down the hall. Scout's feet could be heard thumping down the hallway and she stopped proudly in front of them as they clapped for her. Even though she was completely covered, Jean could tell she was grinning.

"Well, aren't you just a sight to behold," Atticus said, laughing as Scout turned fully in front of him.

"Do I make a good ham, Atticus?" She asked, her voice muffled from inside the costume.

"You're the best ham I've ever seen, baby."

"Mama, can you take this off me now? I don't wanna ruin it before I get to school. Miss Stephanie would be so angry. She said she spent _hours_ on this," she giggled as Jean got to her and pulled the costume over her head. "Did I do okay, Mama?" She asked happily.

"Baby, if you do it like that tonight then Stephanie Crawford will have little to complain about. For a change." She winked which caused Scout to laugh. "I think you and Jem better get going soon or you'll be late." She set Scout's costume down by Atticus' chair. "Run down and put your dress and shoes on quickly, baby." She said and pushed her gently in the direction of her room.

A few short minutes later, Jem and Scout were both in the living room and ready to make their way to the school. When Scout suddenly remembered that she hadn't put any socks on and ran back to her room, Atticus called Jem to him and gave him a handful of change.

"If she wants to do anything at the pageant. Let her stay as long as she likes, son." He ruffled Jem's hair as he nodded. "There's some there for you, too, don't worry," Atticus smiled, sensing Jem's unasked question.

"Now, you both be careful, do you hear me?" Jean warned her children as they were about to set off. "It'll be dark walkin' through the woods so be careful you don't fall or anything cause I won't be there to bandage you up. And you come straight home after the pageant is over. Jem, you look out for your sister and make sure nothing happens her, alright?" She turned to her son.

Jem rolled his eyes. "Mama, we've been walkin' through that woods for _years!_ Nothin' is gonna happen to us. We're gonna be fine," he said in exasperation.

"You just make sure you both come home to me in one piece," she laughed as they headed towards the door. "Have a good night both of you," she called after them as they disappeared into the darkness.

oOo

Jean and Atticus had a leisurely evening while the pageant went on. Jean started a new book while Atticus read over whatever work he had missed while in Montgomery. Usually, he would have disappeared to his study for this, but tonight he remained where he was in the living room. Jean knew it was because he knew she was still ill and couldn't stop smiling to herself as she read. She didn't know what she would do without him. After a time she switched the radio on, laughing outright at Atticus bobbing his head along to the music.

When two hours had passed and Jem and Scout would soon be returning home, Jean decided she'd best light the fires in their rooms. It was a cold out, and the last thing she wanted was the pair of them coming down with colds alongside her. While she loved her children dearly they were the most demanding patients when they were sick.

As she finished lighting Jem's fire and just touched the handle of Scout's door, the front door banged open, hitting off the wall as it did so, and the sound of rushing footsteps came down the hall. From the living room, she heard Atticus call out "oh, my God" and she knew something was wrong. Before she even had time to get to the doorway of Jem's room, Arthur Radley came hurrying in with her son held unconscious in his arms. His face was badly cut and bruised, and his arm lay at an angle that made Jean's stomach turn.

"Atticus!" She half screamed as she frantically rushed to Jem's bedside. Atticus was quickly at his other side, both of them calling their son who wasn't waking up. "What's wrong with him?! Atticus, what's wrong?!" She was nearly in hysterics as Jem still lay motionless.

She could see her husband struggling to stay collected. "His arms broken, honey. Other than that and and the bruises, he's fine. He's breathing and he's fine." He reached one hand across the bed to take hers, trying to both comfort and calm her. Jean saw just how badly he was shaking.

Before he had said it, Jean hadn't even noticed the soft rise and fall of her son's chest, a reassurance that her little boy was still very much alive. She said a silent prayer of thanks but went pale as at the thought of her daughter who was no where to be seen. "Where's Scout?!" She then asked her husband, becoming frantic once more.

Immediately, Atticus was on his feet and out the door. Not wanting to leave her son, but knowing he needed help that she couldn't give him, she followed her husband out of the room to phone Dr Reynolds to come over. After that, she was quickly in the bathroom, wetting a flannel to clean the blood off Jem's face. While she was doing so he began to come round.

"Mama," he mumbled, his face scrunching up as she gently dabbed at his cuts.

"Shhh, baby, I'm here. I'm here," she soothed him.

"Mama, it hurts. My arm really hurts," he started to cry, breaking Jean's heart in the process.

"Dr Reynolds is on the way, baby. You're going to be alright. I need you to be brave until he gets here," her voice shook as she spoke. Lord, if she ever found out who did this, they'd be as good as dead. As gently as she possibly could, she took her son in her arms and kissed his cheek. "Baby, who did this to you?"

"I don't know," Jem whispered back, his voice shaking as he concentrated on ignoring the pain in his arm.

"Alright, baby, it's alright. You just lay there. Don't worry about anything but getting some rest." She smoothed some hair back from his forehead as she watched him. What heartless creature would do such a thing to her little boy? Her little boy who had a heart of gold and gave no bother to anyone? She was murderous.

It wasn't long until Atticus appeared back in the room, Scout clinging tightly to him in her slip. Her face was buried in his shoulder and she refused to look up no matter how much Atticus coaxed her. Leaving Jem's bedside, Jean approached him and took her daughter in her arms.

"Baby," she soothed her. "Baby, what happened?" She held her close to her as Atticus examined their son.

"I don't know, Mama!" She cried, burying her head in Jean's shoulder.

"Alright, honey, alright. You're okay." She whispered, hugging her tighter.

"Did you call Dr Reynolds?" Atticus asked, turning away from Jem.

"Yes," Jean answered, her arms still tightly around Scout.

"And Heck?"

"Yes, honey."

He nodded and mumbled something under his breath, running his hands through his hair and resting his elbows on his knees. She had never seen him so shaken up before.

It didn't take long for Dr Reynolds to arrive and give Jem something to stop him from fully coming around. He said his arm was badly broken at the elbow and put it in a cast which he said would need to be kept on for six weeks, but once it came off Jem would be good as new. Boys his age tended to bounce back rather quickly. Examining Scout, he concluded that she seemed to be fine although badly shaken. He whispered to Atticus that they both should be expecting nightmares for the next while.

As Dr Reynolds left, Heck Tate came in and stood standing awkwardly by Jem's bedroom door, shaking his head slowly at the sight before him.

"Come in, Heck," Atticus called to him. "Did you find anything?

Heck seemed uneasy as he came in, staring for a few moments at Jem in his bed and Scout cradled in Jean's lap. "Mr Finch, I'll tell you what I found. I found a little girl's dress. It's out in my car. That your dress, Scout?" He called over to her.

"Yes, sir. If it's pink," Scout replied quietly, lifting her head from Jean's shoulder.

Heck nodded slowly and rubbed his hands down his thighs as if there was something else he wanted to say but couldn't quite find the words. He glanced to Jean and Scout and back to Atticus again, pressing his lips together and shaking his head.

"Heck, what's wrong?" Jean asked, becoming a little unsettled.

Heck began rubbing the back of his neck. "Bob Ewell's lyin' on the ground under that tree down yonder with a kitchen knife stuck up under his ribs. He's dead, ma'am."

Jean gasped so loudly that Scout jumped in her arms. Atticus rose from the side of Jem's bed and looked bleakly at Heck.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

"Yes, sir. He won't be botherin' these children anymore," he stared straight at Jem. "Scout, do you think you can tell us what happened?"

"There was a lot of coughin' and pantin' and someone knocked me down on the ground. Somebody grabbed Jem, Mr Ewell I reckon, and knocked him down on the ground. Then someone grabbed me, it must have been Mr Ewell again, but someone pulled him off me. Then there was someone carrying Jem..." She trailed off.

Heck looked at her a little confused. "Who was it, Scout?"

Scout's eyes travelled to the man in the corner and she pointed to him. "There he is Mr Tate, he'll tell you his name," she mumbled and turned her head back into Jean's shoulder. When Jean whispered something quietly in her ear, she looked up again at the man and it suddenly dawned on her who it was. "Hey, Boo..." She smiled brightly at him.

"Mr Arthur, baby," Jean whispered in her ear.

"I believe he already knows you," Atticus said gently. "Heck, come on out on the front porch a moment." He then gestured for Heck to follow him.

Jean placed Scout on her feet, telling her to stay with Jem and Arthur and followed her husband out on the porch. She needn't have bothered saying anything to Scout, as less than five minutes later she was coming out on the porch herself, leading Arthur by the hand over to the porch swing and climbing up beside him. While she was talking to him, Jean approached her husband and placed her hand in his

"It's a clear cut case of self-defence," he was saying. "I'll run down to the office in the morning and..." He stopped as Heck interrupted him.

"Mr Finch, do you think Jem killed Bob Ewell? Is that what you're thinking?" He asked in disbelief.

"Honey, there's no way Jem could have killed him. He's barely five feet tall, and where would he have gotten a kitchen knife from?" Jean tried to reason with him.

"You heard what Scout said," he replied.

"Mr Finch," Heck spoke quite firmly, "your boy never killed Bob Ewell. He fell on his knife and killed himself. Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr Finch. It ain't a crime for a citizen to do his utmost to stop a crime from being committed which is exactly what he did. Do you really want to drag that man and his shy ways into the limelight? To me, that's a sin, Mr Finch. It's a sin and not one I'm about to have hanging over my head." He glanced towards Arthur was sitting with Scout looking serenely out across the neighbourhood. Atticus squeezed his wife's hand and followed Heck's gaze as his meaning dawned on him. "Bob Ewell fell on his knife." Heck said again. "Now, goodnight Mr Finch, Mrs Finch." He bowed his head at Jean and left.

When Heck had been speaking, Jean hadn't realised that she had been crying. The whole events of the night had finally caught up with her and she was standing on the porch crying. Atticus pulled his hand from hers and wrapped it around her, pulling her close to him and kissing the side of her head.

"They're okay, honey. We've got them and they're okay." He whispered, squeezing her tighter. "Scout," he then called gently for his daughter. When she got close to him, he placed his other arm around her and hugged her tight. "Honey, take Mr Arthur home," he whispered.

As she quietly went back and took Arthur by the hand, Jean pulled herself from her husband's hold and approached the man. "Arthur, from the very bottom of my heart, thank you for saving our children." She placed her hands on Arthur's shoulders and softly kissed his cheek.

When Scout had walked down the porch to take Arthur the short distance home, Atticus led his wife back in to the house where he wasted no time in taking her immediately in his arms in the hallway. He was holding her so tight to him she thought she would stop breathing but she found she didn't really care. After the horrible ordeal of that night, all she wanted was to be held by her husband and hold him in return.

"They're okay, Jean," he said again, sounding more as though he was trying to convince himself. "They're okay." He whispered again and nuzzled his face into her hair.

For what seemed like hours they stood embracing in the hallway, each trying to silently comfort the other, before they moved back into Jem's room. Their son was still sleeping peacefully as Jean gently climbed on the bed beside him and Atticus took a chair to sit by his side. They sat in silence as each of them watched their son, both thinking of how dangerously close they had come to losing their children that night. After a time, Atticus reached out and took her hand in his, a sign that he was in need of comfort. She squeezed his hand tightly as Scout appeared quietly in the door and came into the room.

"Baby, come here," Jean whispered, gently moving herself into a sitting position to wrap her arms as tightly around her daughter as she could. "I love you _so_ much, honey. Don't you dare ever forget that." She said, kissing her all over as she spoke.

They remained sitting together long after Scout had fallen asleep against Jean's side. When Atticus noticed he had picked her up and carried her into bed, returning and taking his seat next to Jem's bedside. He sat silently watching Jem sleep, occasionally shaking his head in response to his thoughts. When Jean was convinced that Jem wouldn't stop breathing if she left his side, she stood from the bed and instead perched down on Atticus' knee, placing one hand on his cheek.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Despite everything that had happened that night, Jean couldn't help but smile.

"Atticus, I'm pregnant."


End file.
